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COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



^be Comtorter 



A COMPILATION 



BY 

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THOMJtS EDlVJtRD POTTERTOM 



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PUBLISHEID BY 

i:UGENE r. ENDICOTT 
BOSTON 



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THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Received 

APR 4 1903 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS ^?/)OCc. No. 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1903, 

By Eugene F. Endicott 



Published March, igoj. 



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Stanbope Iprcss 

F. H. GILSON COMPANY 
BOSTON, U. S. A. 



preface 

It is the hope of the compiler, that this little 
book may supply the need of a pocket -manual, 
consolatory in nature and especially adapted for 
use at funerals. 

The title of the volume, "The Comforter,'* 
has been a guide and standard in the adapta- 
tion of Scripture passages and the selection of 
poems. 

The compiler has taken advantage of other 
compilations in arranging this hand-book, trust- 
ing, that by good selection and wise elimination, 
" The Comforter '* may be of value to the 
clergyman or layman conducting a funeral ser- 
vice, and a means of " rich consolation " to the 
bereaved. 

It is a pleasure to acknowledge the kindness 
of friends and authors for assistance rendered. 

The prayers were written by Rev. I. M. 
Atwood, D.D. ; Rev. Henry Blanchard, D.D. ; 
I and Dean Henry P. Forbes, D.D. 

Acknowledgment is made of the courtesy 

lof the following named publishers, for granting 

use of copyrighted poems : Cassell and Co., 

Limited ; Henry Holt and Co. ; The Bowen- 

[Merrill Co. ; Lothrop Publishing Company ; 

• • • 

ni 



preface 

W. B. Conkey Co. ; G. P. Putnam's Sons ; and 
D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's 
complete works. 

The poems by Whittier, Lowell, Longfellow, 
Alice Cary, Sill, Harriet Beecher Stowe, A. D. T. 
Whitney, Burroughs, and Mrs. E. S. P. Ward, 
are used by permission of, and by special ar- 
rangement with, Houghton, Mifflin Sc Co., 
publishers of their works. 

Thomas Edward Potterton. 



IV 



Contents 



Scripture Selections : page 

Opening Sentences . . 3 

A General Service 7 

Tribute to a Child 15 

Patience and Confidence 18 

Comfort of Sorrow 22 

The Aged 25 

The Immortal Life 28 

Prayers 35 

Service at the Grave 49 

Poems : 

Invocation Mrs. Hemans. 55 

The Secret of Death Arnold. 56 

After Death in Arabia Artiold. 57 

Dying Ano7tymous. 59 

The Dead Barton, 60 

Our Dead Adelaide A. Procter. 61 

Waiting by the Gate Bryant. 62 

Passing Away Anonymous. 64 

Death of a Sister Whittier, 65 

The Border-Lands Enphemia Saxby. 66 

The Angel of Death A. A. Procter, 67 

Away Riley. 68 

Disenthralled Mary B. Dodge, 69 

My Dead Hosmer, 70 

Tired Out Anonymous, 71 

Sleep Anonymous, 72 

The Sleep E. B. Browning. 73 

In Harbor Hayne. 75 

Gone Whittier, 76 

V 



86 

88 



Contents 

PAGE 

Poems (Continued) : 

There is no Death Lytton. 78 

The Choir Invisible Geor^-e Eliot. 79 

A Baby's Death Swinburjte. 80 

The Reaper and the Flowers . H. W. Longfellow. 81 

My Child Mn Pierpont. 82 

She is not Dead, but Sleepeth . Samuel Hinds, 83 

The Changeling Lowell. 83 

Little Children . Mary Howitt. 84 

Childish Feet are Straying Home- 

y^2Ci^ Bartholomew. 85 

The Alpine Sheep Maria Lowell. 

Resignation Lo7igfellow. 

Our Home Maker A, D. T. Whitney. 90 

The Home-Seeker W. H. Savage, 91 

. Ripe Wheat Eliza O. Peirson. 93 

The Old Man's Funeral Bryant. 94 

The Finished Life . M. J. Savage. 95 

The Good Old Grandmother . . Anonymous. 96 

Shadow and Sunlight . Preble. 98 

The Dead One's Message , , , , M. J. Savage. 99 

Blessed are They that Mourn .... Bryant. 100 

^ ^ C M.J. Savage. loi 

Waiting Burroughs. 103 

Athanasia ^^^^- i°4 

Blessed are They that Mourn .... Burleigh. 104 

Sometime May Riley Smith, 105 

Prayer for Strength Anonymous. 

Yet a Little While >^^ Crewdson. 

Absence Frances Anne ICemble. 

From '' Christus Victor " Dodge. 109 

Forever ^'^^^'^^^- ^^^ 

Good-Bye till Morning Anonymous. 112 

Dropping Down the River Bonar. 113 

The Deserted House Tennyson. 114 

Suspiria Longfellow. .lYA 

The Charmer H. B. Stowe. 115 

The Eternal Goodness Whittier. 116 

vi 



107 
108 
108 



Contents 



PAGK 



Poems {Continued^ : 

To J. S. Tennyson. 117 

Hope's Song Anonymous. 118 

The God of the Living Ellerion. 119 

Life Anna L. Barbauld. 119 

The Angel of Patience Whittier. 120 

Out of the Depths Mary Howitt. 121 

Parting and Welcome Whittier. 122 

From *' In Memoriam " Tennyson. 122 

Auld Lang Syne Chadwick. 124 

Buried at Sea Anonymous. 124 

Afterward , . . E. S. P. Ward. 125 

How Will It Be Hodge. 126 

Over the River Nancy A. W. Priest. 127 

Here and There Alice Cary. 128 

The Other Side Chadwick. 129 

The Future Sill. 130 

The Other World H. B. Stowe. 131 

Beyond Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 132 

Good Bye Anonymons, 134 

Crossing the Bar Tennyson. 135 



VU 



©penina Sentences 



©pening Sentences 

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the 
Lord Jesus Christ : he that beHeveth in me, 
though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and who- 
soever liveth and believeth in me shall never 
die [St. John xi. 25, 26]. 

We brought nothing into this world, and it is 
certain that we can carry nothing out. 

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
away : blessed be the name of the Lord [ i Tim. 
vi. 7 ; Job I - 2 1] . 

All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man 
as the flower of grass. 

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth ; but 
the word of our God endureth forever ; [i Peter 
I. 24, 25]. 



Scripture Selcctiona 



H (Beneral Service 

To everything there is a season, and a time 
to every purpose under the heaven : a time to 
be born and a time to die. ^ 

ECCLESIASTES Ul, 

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in 
all generations. Before the mountains were 
brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the 
earth and the world, even from everlasting to 
everlasting, thou art God. For a thousand 
years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it 
is past, and as a watch in the night. Thou ear- 
nest them away as with a flood ; they are as a 
sleep : in the morning they are like grass which 
groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and 
groweth up ; in the evening it is cut down, and 
withereth. We spend our years as a tale that 
is told. The days of our years are threescore 
years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they 
be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor 
and sorrow ; for it is soon cut off, and we fly 
away. So teach us to number our days, that 
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. O sat- 
isfy us early with thy mercy ; that we may re- 



XLbc Comforter 

joice and be glad all our days. Make us glad 
according to the days wherein thou hast afflicted 
us, and the years wherein we have seen evil. 
Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy 
glory unto their children. And let the beauty 
of the Lord our God be upon us : and establish 
thou the work of our hands upon us ; yea, the 
work of our hands establish thou it. 

Psalm xc. 

Lord, make me to know mine end, and the 
measure of my days, what it is; that I may 
know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made 
my days as a handbreadth ; and mine age is as 
nothing before thee : verily every man at his 
best state is altogether vanity. Surely every 
man walketh in a vain shew : surely they are 
disquieted in vain : he heapeth up riches, and 
knoweth not who shall gather them. And now. 
Lord, what wait I for ? my hope is in thee. 
Deliver me from all my transgressions : make me 
not the reproach of the foolish. I was dumb, 
I opened not my mouth ; because thou didst it. 
Remove thy stroke away from me : I am con- 
sumed by the blow of thine hand. When thou 
with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou 
makest his beauty to consume away like a moth : 
surely every man is vanity. Hear my prayer, 
O Lord, and give ear unto my cry ; hold not 

Si 



Scripture Selections 

thy peace at my tears : for I am a stranger with 
thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were. 

spare me, that I may recover strength, before 

1 go hence, and be no more. 

Psalm xxxix. 



The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures : 
he leadeth me beside the still waters. He re- 
storeth my soul : he leadeth me in the paths of 
righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
I will fear no evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod 
and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest 
a table before me in the presence of mine ene- 
mies : thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup 
runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall 
follow me all the days of my life : and I will 
dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. 

Psalm xxiii. 

Bless the Lord, O my soul : and all that is 
within me, bless his holy name. Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits : 
who forgiveth all thine iniquities ; who healeth 
all thy diseases ; who redeemeth thy life from 
destruction ; who crowneth thee with loving 
kindness and tender mercies ; who satisfieth thy 
mouth with good things ; so that thy youth is 

9 



XTbe Comforter 

renewed like the eagle's. The Lord executeth 
righteousness and judgment for all that are 
oppressed. Psalm ciii. 

Now is Christ risen from the dead, and be- 
come the first fruits of them that slept. For 
since by man came death, by man came also the 
resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, 
even so in Christ shall all be made alive. But 
every man in his own order : Christ the first-fruits ; 
afterward they that are Christ's at his coming. 

But some man will say, How are the dead 
raised up ? and with what body do they come ? 
That which thou sowest is not quickened, except 
it die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest 
not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it 
may chance of wheat, or of some other grain : 
but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, 
and to every seed his own body. All flesh is 
not the same flesh : but there is one kind of flesh 
of men, another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, 
and another of birds. There are also celestial 
bodies, and bodies terrestrial : but the glory of 
the celestial is one, and the glory of the terres- 
trial is another. There is one glory of the sun, 
and another glory of the moon, and another glory 
of the stars ; for one star differeth from another 
star in glory. So also is the resurrection of the 
dead. It is sown in corruption, it is raised in 

lO 



Scripture Selections 

incorruption : it is sown in dishonor, it is raised 
in glory ; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in 
power ; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a 
spiritual body. There is a natural body, and 
there is a spiritual body. And so it is written, 
The first man Adam was made a living soul : 
the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. 
Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, 
but that which is natural ; and afterward that 
which is spiritual. The first man is of the earth, 
earthy ; the second man is the Lord from heaven. 
As is the earthy, such are they also that are 
earthy : and as is the heavenly, such are they also 
that are heavenly. And as we have borne the 
image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image 
of the heavenly. Now this I say, brethren, that 
flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of 
God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. 
For this corruptible must put on incorrupticm, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. So 
when this corruptible shall have put on incorrup- 
tion, and this mortal shall have put on immor- 
tality, then shall be brought to pass the saying 
that is written. Death is swallowed up in victory. 
O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is 
thy victory ? The sting of death is sin ; and the 
strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to 
God, which giveth us the victory through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved breth- 

II 



Ube Comforter 

ren, be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always abound- 
ing in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye 

know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord. 

I Corinthians xv. 

Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe 
in God, believe also in me. In my Father's 
house are many mansions : if it were not so, I 
would have told you. I go to prepare a place 
for you. And if I go and prepare a place for 
you, I will come again, and receive you unto 
myself ; that where I am, there ye may be also. 
And I will pray the Father, and he shall give 
you another Comforter, that he may abide with 
you forever ; even the Spirit of truth ; whom 
the world cannot receive, because it seeth him 
not, neither knoweth him : for he dwelleth with 
you, and shall be in you. I will not leave you 
comfortless : I will come to you. Yet a little 
while, and the world seeth me no more ; but ye 
see me : because I live, ye shall live also. 

St. John xiv. 

I reckon that the sufferings of the present 
time are not worthy to be compared with the 
glory which shall be revealed to us. For eye 
hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart 
of man conceived, the things which God hath 
prepared for them that love him. Our light 

12 



Scdptute Selections 

affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh 
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory ; while we look not at the things which 
are seen, but at the things which are not seen ; 
for the things which are seen are temporal, but 
the things which are not seen are eternal. For 
we know that, if our earthly house of this taber- 
nacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, 
a house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. Whom the Lord loveth, he chasten- 
eth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with 
you as with sons. Now no chastening for the 
present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous ; 
nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable 
fruit of righteousness unto them that are exer- 
cised thereby. The trying of your faith worketh 
patience. Submit yourselves to God, and the 
Lord will raise you up. For I am persuaded 
that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor prin- 
cipalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
other creatures, shall be able to separate us from 
the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our 
Lord. Selections. 

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : 
for the first heaven and the first earth were 
passed away ; and there was no more sea. And 
I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Be- 

13 



XTbe Comforter 

hold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and 
he will dwell with them, and they shall be his 
people, and God himself shall be with them, and 
be their God. And God shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no 
more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither 
shall there be any more pain : for the former 
things are passed away. And he that sat upon 
the throne said. Behold, I make all things new. 
And he said unto me. Write : for these words 
are true and faithful. And he said unto me. It 
is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning 
and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst 
of the fountain of the water of life freely. He 
that overcometh shall inherit all things ; and I 
will be his God, and he shall be my son. 

Revelation xxi. 

And, behold, I come quickly ; and my reward 
is with me, to give every man according as his 
work shall be. I am Alpha and Omega, the 
beginning and the end, the first and the last. 
Blessed are they that do his commandments, 
that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
may enter in through the gates into the city. 

Revelation xxiL 



14 



tribute to a CbilJ) 

At the same time came the disciples unto 
Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the king- 
dom of heaven ? And Jesus called a little child 
unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and 
said. Verily I say unto you, except ye be con- 
verted, and become as little children, ye shall 
not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whoso- 
ever therefore shall humble himself as this little 
child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of 
heaven. And whoso shall receive one such little 
child in my name receiveth me. Take heed that 
ye despise not one of these little ones ; for I say 
unto you, that in heaven their angels do always 
behold the face of my Father which is in heaven. 
Even so it is not the will of your Father which 
is in heaven, that one of these little ones should 

perish. Matthew xviii. 

And they brought young children to him, that 
he should touch them ; and his disciples rebuked 
those that brought them. But when Jesus saw 
it, he was much displeased, and said unto them. 
Suffer the little children to come unto me, and 
forbid them not ; for of such is the kingdom of 
God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall 

IS 



Zbc Comforter 

not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, 
he shall not enter therein. And he took them 
up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and 
blessed them. Mark x. 

Thus saith the Lord ; a voice was heard in 
Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping ; Rachel 
weeping for her children refused to be comforted 
for her children, because they were not. Thus 
saith the Lord ; Refrain thy voice from weeping, 
and thine eyes from tears : for thy work shall be 
rewarded, saith the Lord ; and they shall come 
again from the land of the enemy. 

Jeremiah xxxi. 

When David saw that his servants whispered, 
David perceived that the child was dead : there- 
fore David said unto his servants. Is the child 
dead ? And they said, He is dead. Then David 
arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed 
himself, and changed his apparel, and came into 
the house of the Lord, and worshipped : then he 
came to his own house ; and when he required, 
they set bread before him, and he did eat. 
Then said his servants unto him. What thing is 
this that thou hast done ? thou didst fast and 
weep for the child, while it was alive ; but when 
the child was dead, thou didst arise and eat 
bread. And he said, While the child was yet 

i6 



Scripture Selections 

alive, I fasted and wept : for I said, Who can 
tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the 
child may live ? But now he is dead, wherefore 
should I fast ? can I bring him back again ? I 
shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. 

2 Samuel xii. 

Behold, the Lord God will come with a strong 
hand, and his arm shall rule for him : behold, 
his reward is with him, and his work before him. 
He shall feed his flock like a shepherd : he shall 
gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them 
in his bosom. Isaiah xl. 



17 



patience anC) Confl5ence 

Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the com- 
mg of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman 
waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and 
hath long patience for it, until he receive the 
early and latter rain. Be ye also patient, stab- 
lish your hearts : for the coming of the Lord 
draweth nigh. Murmur not one against 
another, brethren, lest ye be condemned: be- 
hold, the judge standeth before the door. Take, 
my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in 
the name of the Lord, for an example of suffer- 
ing, affliction, and patience. Behold, we count 
them happy which endure. Ye have heard of 
the patience of Job, and have seen the end of 
the Lord ; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of 
tender mercy [Jas. v.]. For God is not un- 
righteous to forget your work and labor of love, 
which ye have shewed toward his name, in that 
ye have ministered to the saints, and do minis- 
ter. And we desire that every one of you do 
shew the same diligence to the full assurance of 
hope unto the end : that ye be not slothful, but 
followers of them who through faith and 
patience inherit the promises [Heb. vi.]. Better 
is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof : 

i8 



Scripture Selections 

and the patient in spirit is better than the proud 
in spirit. Ecclesiastes vii. 

Ye have forgotten the exhortation which 
speaketh unto you as unto children, My son, 
despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, 
nor faint when thou art rebuked of him : for 
whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye 
endure chastening, God dealeth with you as 
with sons ; for what son is he whom the father 
chasteneth not ? Furthermore, we have had 
fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we 
gave them reverence : shall we not much rather 
be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and 
live ? For they verily for a few days chastened 
us after their own pleasure ; but he for our 
profit, that we might be partakers of his 
holiness. Now no chastening for the present 
seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: neverthe- 
less, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of 
righteousness unto them which are exercised 
thereby. Hebrews xii. 

Hast thou not known ? hast thou not heard, 
that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator 
of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is 
weary ? there is no searching of his understand- 
ing. He giveth power to the faint ; and to 

19 



Ube Comforter 

them that have no might he increaseth strength. 
Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and 
the young men shall utterly fall : but they that 
wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; 
they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they 
shall run, and not be weary; and they shall 
walk, and not faint. Isaiah xl. 

God is our refuge and strength, a very pres- 
ent help in trouble. Therefore will not we 
fear, though the earth be removed, and though 
the mountains be carried into the midst of the 
sea ; though the waters thereof roar and be 
troubled, though the mountains shake with the 
swelling thereof. There is a river, the streams 
whereof shall make glad the city of God, the 
holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. 
God is in the midst of her; she shall not be 
moved : God shall help her, and that right early. 
Be still, and know that I am God : I will be 
exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in 
the earth. The Lord of hosts is with us : the 
God of Jacob is our refuge. Psalm xlvi. 

I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and 
my fortress : my God ; in him will I trust. 
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by. night ; 
nor for the arrow that flieth by day ; nor for 
the pestilence that walketh in darkness ; nor for 

20. 



Scripture Selections 

the destruction that wasteth at noonday. For 
he shall give his angels charge over thee, to 
keep thee in all thy ways. Psalm xci. 

Behold I come quickly ; and my reward is 

with me, to give every man according as his 

works shall be. I am Alpha and Omega, the 

beginning and the end, the first and the last. 

Blessed are they that do his commandments, 

that they may have right to the tree of life, and 

may enter in through the gates into the city. 

Revelation xxii. 



21 



Comfort of Sorrow 

It is better to go to the house of mourning 
than to go to the house of feasting : for that is 
the end of all men ; and the living will lay it to 
his heart. Sorrow is better than laughter : for 
by the sadness of the countenance the heart is 
made better. The heart of the wise is in the 
house of mourning : but the heart of fools is in 
the house of mirth. In the day of prosperity be 
joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: 
God also hath set the one over against the 
other, to the end that man should find nothing 
after him. Ecclesiastes vii. 

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the 
God of all comfort, who comforteth us in all 
our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort 
them which are in any trouble, by the comfort 
wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. 

2 Corinthians i. 

For the whole world before thee is as a little 
grain of the balance, yea, as a drop of the morn- 
ing dew that falleth down upon the earth. But 
thou hast mercy upon all ; thou lovest all the 

22 



Scripture Selections 

things that are, and abhorrest nothing which 
thou hast made : for never wouldest thou have 
made anything, if thou hadst hated it. And 
how could anything have endured, if it had not 
been thy will ? or been preserved, if not called 
by thee ? But thou sparest all : for they are 
thine, O Lord, thou lover of souls. Wisdom xi. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation ; whom 
shall I fear ? the Lord is the strength of my life ; 
of whom shall I be afraid ? Though a host 
should encamp against me, my heart shall not 
fear : though war should rise against me, in this 
will I be confident. One thing have I desired 
of the Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may 
dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of 
my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and 
to inquire in his temple. For in the time of 
trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion : in the 
secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me ; he shall 
set me up upon a rock. When my father and 
my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take 
me up. Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead 
me in a plain path. I had fainted, unless I had 
believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the 
land of the living. Psalm xxvii. 

If ye love me, keep my commandments. And 
I will pray the Father, and he shall give you 

23 



XTbe Comforter 

another Comforter, that he may abide with you 
forever ; even the Spirit of truth ; whom the 
world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, 
neither knoweth him : but ye know him ; for he 
dwelleth with you, and shall be in you. I will 
not leave you comfortless ; I will come to you. 
Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no 
more ; but ye see me : because I live, ye shall 
live also. At that day ye shall know that I am 
in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you. 

John xiv. 

The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures : 
he leadeth me beside the still waters. He re- 
storeth my soul : he leadeth me in the paths of 
righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me ; 
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou 
preparest a table before me in the presence of 
mine enemies : thou anoint est my head with oil ; 
my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and 
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life : 
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord 

forever. Psalm xxiii. 



24 



Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the 
years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no 
pleasure in them ; while the sun, or the light, or 
the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the 
clouds return after the rain : in the day when 
the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the 
strong men shall bow themselves, and the grind- 
ers cease because they are few, and those that 
look out of the windows be darkened, and the 
doors shall be shut in the streets, when the 
sound of the grinding is low, and one shall rise 
up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters 
of music shall be brought low ; also when they 
shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears 
shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall 
flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, 
and desire shall fail : because man goeth to 
his long home, and the mourners go about the 
streets. Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or 
the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be 
broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at 
the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the 
earth as it was : and the spirit shall return unto 
God who gave it. Ecclesiastes xii. 

25 



Ube Comforter 

The righteous shall flourish like the palm 
tree : he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. 
Those that be planted in the house of the Lord 
shall flourish in the courts of our God. They 
shall still bring forth fruit in old age ; to shew- 
that the Lord is upright : he is my rock, and 
there is no unrighteousness in him. 

Psalm xcii. 

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all 
generations. Before the mountains were brought 
forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and 
the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, 
thou art God. For a thousand years in thy 
sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and 
as a watch in the night. Thou earnest them 
away as with a flood ; they are as a sleep : in 
the morning they are like grass which groweth 
up. In the morning it flourisheth and groweth 
up ; in the evening it is cut down, and wither eth. 
The days of our years are three score years and 
ten ; and if by reason of strength they be four 
score years, yet is their strength labor and 
sorrow ; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. 
So teach us to number our days, that we may 
apply our hearts unto wisdom. O satisfy us 
early with thy mercy ; that w^e may rejoice and 
be glad all our days. Make us glad according 
to the days wherein thou hast afflicted us, and 

26 



Scripture Selections 

the years wherein we have seen evil. Let thy 
work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory 
unto their children. And let the beauty of the 
Lord our God be upon us : and establish .thou 
the work of our hands upon us ; yea, the work 
of our hands establish thou it. Psalm xc. 

Return unto thy rest, O my soul ; for the 
Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. For 
thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine 
eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. 

Psalm cxvL 



27 



Ube Ifmmortal Xife 

Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in' 
God, believe also in me. In my Father's house 
are many mansions : if it were not so, I would 
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
come again, and receive you unto myself ; that 
where I am, there ye may be also. And 
whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. 
Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not 
whither thou goest ; and how can we know the 
way ? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the 
truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the 
Father but by me. Peace I leave with you, my 
peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth, 
give I unto you. Let not your heart be 
troubled, neither let it be afraid. John xiv. 

As many as are led by the Spirit of God, 
they are the sons of God. For ye have not 
received the spirit of bondage again to fear ; but 
ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby 
we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth 
witness with our spirit, that we are the children 
of God : and if children, then heirs ; heirs of 
God, and joint heirs with Christ ; if so be that 

28 



I 



Scdptute Selections 

we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified 
together. For I reckon that the sufferings of 
this present time are not worthy to be compared 
with the glory which shall be revealed in us. 
And we know that all things work together 
for good to them that love God, to them who 
are called according to his purpose. What shall 
we then say to these things ? If God be for us, 
who can be against us ? Nay, in all these 
things we are more than conquerors through 
him that loved us. For I am persuaded that 
neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor princi- 
palities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
other creature, shall be able to separate us from 
the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 

Lord. Romans viii. 

But some man will say, How are the dead 
raised up ! and with what body do they come ? 
That which thou sowest is not quickened, except 
it die : and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not 
that body that shall be, but bare grain : it may 
chance of wheat, or of some other grain: but God 
giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to 
every seed his own body. All flesh is not the 
same flesh : but there is one kind of flesh of men, 
another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and 
another of birds. There are .also celestial 



Ube Comfottet 

bodies, and bodies terrestrial : but the glory of 
the celestial is one, and the glory of the terres- 
trial is another. There is one glory of the sun, 
and another glory of the moon, and another 
glory of the stars ; for one star differeth from 
another star in glory. So also is the resurrec- 
tion of the dead. It is sown in corruption, it is 
raised in incorruption : it is sown in dishonor, it 
is raised in glory : it is sown in weakness, it is 
raised in power : it is sown a natural body, it is 
raised a spiritual body. There is a natural 
body, and there is a spiritual body. Howbeit 
that was not first which is spiritual, but that 
which is natural : and afterward that which is 
spiritual. The first man is of the earth, earthy : 
the second man is of heaven. As is the earthy, 
such are they also that are earthy : and as is 
the heavenly, such are they also that are 
heavenly. And as we have borne the image of 
the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the 
heavenly. Now this I say, brethren, that flesh 
and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God ; 
neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. 
For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. So 
when this corruptible shall have put on incorrup- 
tion, and this mortal shall have put on immor- 
tality, then shall be brought to pass the saying 
that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 

30 



Scripture Selections 

death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where 
is thy victory ? The sting of death is sin ; and 
the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be 
to God, which giveth us the victory through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved 
brethren, be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch 
as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the 
Lord. I Corinthians xv. 

But as it is written. Eye hath not seen, nor 
ear heard, neither have entered into the heart 
of man, the things which God hath prepared for 
them that love him. But God hath revealed 
them unto us by his Spirit : for the Spirit 
searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God. 

I Corinthians ii. 

For we know that, if our earthly house of 
this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a build- 
ing of God, a house not made with hands, eter- 
nal in the heavens. 2 Corinthians v. 

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : 
for the first hpaven and the first earth were 
passed away ; and there was no more sea. And 

1 John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, com- 
ing down from God out of heaven. And I 
heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Be- 

31 



UM Comtorter 

hold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he 
will dwell with them, and they shall be his 
people, and God himself shall be with them, 
and be their God. And God shall wipe away 
all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no 
more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither 
shall there be any more pain : for the former 
things are passed away. And he that sat upon 
the throne said. Behold, I make all things new. 
I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the 
end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the 
fountain of the water of life freely. He that 
overcometh shall inherit all things ; and I will 
be his God, and he shall be my son. 

Revelation xxi. 

I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, 
Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord from henceforth : yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labors : and their 

works do follow them. Revelation xiv. 

They shall hvmger no more, neither thirst 
any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, 
nor any heat. For the Lamb -which is in the 
midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall 
lead them unto living fountains of waters : and 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. 

Revelation vii. 
32 



prai^ers 



■I 

■•1 ~ 



I 



♦ I 



We are driven to seek Thee again, as so 
often before, O our Father, by our affliction. 
We come with confession on our lips, and not 
without shame, that in our long bright days of 
health and comfort we are so little mindful of 
our duty and our debt to thee. But now, O 
God, turn us not away, when, made sensible of 
our need of thee, we come, praying for help to 
bear a burden too great for us. 

Death and darkness have fallen upon us ; but 
with thee there is no death, and with thee is 
everlasting life. Grant that we here to-day, in 
the presence of a messenger we all dread, yet 
all must meet, m^ay be taught how to come 
into thy light, and so have in our disturbed 
souls somewhat of the Peace of God that pass- 
eth understan,ding. Teach us, O God, that as 
thou art owner of all worlds, thy child is ever 
at home with thee. And if in our depressed 
mood of this hour, smitten with a heavy stroke, 
bewildered with mystery, and throbbing with 
the pain of parting, we cannot lift up our hearts 
in full and rejoicing faith, grant, O merciful 
Father, that we be not overwhelmed with our 

35 



Ube Comforter 

grief, or made unmindful of thy great goodness 
in the precious treasure which we mourn as 
lost. Trembling under the shock, may we have 
strength and wisdom still to stretch out our 
hands to thee and feel the touch of infinite 
tenderness and help. 

We thank thee, O Lord, for all pure and 
useful lives, however short. They have en- 
riched the world, they have made us all debtors, 
they have laid up treasures for us in heaven. 
And in the large light of our Christian faith we 
dare to give thee thanks for every life thou 
hast commissioned, even of the unthankful and 
the evil. For our Divine Master has taught us 
that thy love reaches to the wayward, the sin- 
ful, and the lost. And the unspeakable grati- 
tude that rises in our hearts when we think of 
this thy great kindness to the frailest of Thy 
children, we take, O God, to be but a faint echo 
of the emotion of love and pity and eternal good- 
ness in the infinite heart. So we bow to thy 
will and way, our Father, as wiser and better 
than our own, and pray in this sad funeral hour 
to be gathered up, all of us, the mourners and the 
neighbors and the strangers, in a common as- 
surance and a common sentiment of hope and 
faith and love. 

In his name that is above every name. Amen ! 

I. M. A. 
3^ 



Author of life, and Father of our spirits, in 
the presence of the old, old fashion of death, 
of whom shall we seek for succor but of thee ? 
Though we make daily acquaintance with death, 
and know it is reserved for us all, we shrink 
from it ; and when it invades our homes we are 
stricken and helpless. We turn to thee, O 
God, our Father, in this dark and bitter hour. 
Surely, our hearts say, there must be a refuge 
and help for us in our great extremity. 
Hitherto we have found it in the bosom of God, 
and now again we fly to the Divine shelter. 
Pity us, O our Father, and open thy mercy to 
us that we may find comfort and peace ! 

We thank thee for our life and the throng of 
fair, sweet things it has brought with it. We 
thank thee for those dear lives in which we 
have invested our love, whose presence is joy, 
whose absence is pain. We thank thee that 
we have had the comfort of ministering to 
them and the rapture of sharing their love. 
Though we feel now the unspeakable bereave- 
ment of loss and separation, intensified by the 
silence and mystery that have so suddenly fallen 
on our beloved, we are glad that thou gavest 
him (her) to us, and that we are forever the 
richer for the gift. As we stand here in this 
great shadow, we feel, O Lord of Life and 
Glory, a mystic sense of the eternal bond that 

37 



Ube Comforter 

unites us with those we call dead. Give us, O 
our Father, the strong assurance that it is not a 
dream or an illusion, but a voice of truth and 
consolation speaking in our souls from thee. 

We commit ourselves once more to thee, 
thou Life of our life, in the faith and fellowship 
of the dear old Gospel of Jesus Christ, in which 
death is abolished and life and immortality 
brought to light. May our surrender be so 
sincere and so complete that we shall feel the 
clasp of the everlasting arms. Bear with us all, 
O God, in our weakness and our wavering ; and 
be especially near with thy strong support to the 
members of this stricken family. Comfort with 
them, their kindred and friends. Awaken 
within all who are touched by this sorrow, or are 
exercised by any emotion of sympathy or any 
foreboding of ill, a deep, sweet sense of the 
overshadowing love and care of God, and a de- 
sire to be at one with thee, both for the life 
that now is and that which is to come. 

And unto thee be praise and thanksgiving, 
world without end. Amen ! I. m.a. 



O thou all-merciful One ! who has taught us 
through the radiant faith of Jesus to call thee 
our Father and bring our wishes and petitions 
before thee in the trustful spirit of little chil- 
dren, help us with humble and believing hearts 

38 



to bow before thee and take the accents of 
prayer upon our lips. 

From out the overshadowing mystery thou 
hast reached down unto us the cup of sorrow 
and bidden us to drink. 

Grant us that measure of the heavenly vision 
which shall not only enable us to see that it is, 
indeed, thy hand and not another's, but, behold 
as well thy face of loving wisdom, that we may 
say: "This also cometh from the Lord, his 
holy will be done." 

Deliver us from the folly of measuring all 
thy providences by the changeful and misleading 
standards of our own preferences or seeming 
good. Vouchsafe unto us the uplift and the 
calm of a Christian hope that we may keep before 
us "the eternal years," and so walk on with 
steps that never falter. 

Make quick the sorrowing spirit to sunder 
the "things temporal'' from the "things 
eternal," that it may feel no sense of poverty 
when the visible and the transient fade away. 

Preserve our souls from the vain assumption 
that our private welfare or happiness is thy sole 
care, that we might forget the weal and bliss of 
the glorified in the stress of our personal loss 
and earthly deprivation. 

Grant that our grief and sorrow may not be- 
come nourishment for our selfishness, that we 

39 



Ube Comforter 

should feed our souls with the unsatisfying 
bread of idle memories or vain repinings and 
regrets. 

May we not hold our loss so near our sorrow- 
ing eyes that it shall shut from us the beauties 
and the duties that cheer and ennoble life, but 
lift it aloft in the clear atmosphere of faith until 
it shall take its place in the ceaseless procession 
of thy benefactions, sun-kissed and glorified. 

Make ready our chastened souls for every 
loving service ; and teach us thus that our lives 
can be made richer by their seeming losses if 
only grief shall swing open the gates of heavenly 
sympathy and the angel of a new-born love bid 
us enter in. 

So may no happy by -gone years bind shackles 
upon our feet, that we should' not go on unto 
the good that awaits us. Memory opens the 
door into the rich treasure-galleries of recollec- 
tion, doubly sacred now, and we are tempted to 
linger and gaze and gaze again while without 
love and duty call us to some useful and noble 
service. 

So with clarified vision and cleansed hearts 
may we a.wait thy further pleasure, thou lover 
of our souls ; grateful for the good thou hast 
given us in the companionship of our beloved ; 
calmed even unto a sober joy by the thought of 
their eternal gain ; the furnace fire of our sor- 

40 



praters 

row forging new links for love's golden chain 
that binds the quick and the dead together that 
it may lift at last our souls unto our own and 
unto thee ; to whom, thou living God of the 
ever-living, be glory and dominion forevermore. 
Amen. H. P. F. 

In this solemn hour, it is blessed for us, dear 
Father, to feel that Thou art with us. We can 
repeat the words of our beloved elder brother, 
^' And yet I am not alone, because the Father 
is with me." Like him, our helper, may we be 
able to rise into that triumphant mood in which 
he was able to say, ^^ Father, into thy hands I 
commend my spirit." We believe that he is 
alive elsewhere : we believe that Thou didst 
receive that spirit. For to us it would seem 
immeasurable tragedy for Thee to have created 
him with passionate desire to reach his fellow- 
men and bring them into assurance of immortal- 
ity, if Thou hadst intended to thrust him into 
nothingness when the body died upon the cross. 
W^ believe that he lives and loves and waits. 
We believe his words, " Because I live, ye shall 
live also." And in this hour it is unspeakably 
blessed to hear Thy spirit bearing witness with 
our spirits that we are Thy children, and if 
children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint-heirs 
with Jesus Christ. 

41 



Zbc Comfortet 

May the light of that world where now he 
lives shine in this house to-day ! May these 
mourning ones see his radiant face and hear his 
voice of comfort ! May they see the face of the 
beloved one so recently translated to the higher 
world. So may the darkness of this hour of 
affliction be illuminated by the glory of the 
spirit world ! 

In this hour may they think of reunion in 
heaven between the beloved and those who have 
gone before. It is natural, it is inevitable, that 
they should dwell upon separation from them- 
selves. Oh ! may they think of the joy of those 
who have been reunited. We do not wish to be- 
lieve that the beloved one is without sorrow in 
leaving the loved on earth — that the glory into 
which he has entered has put away all pain of part- 
ing, but we do wish to think of what strength to 
bear has come, now that he know^s how true it 
is that these light afflictions which are but for a 
moment are not worthy to be compared with 
the glory into which the departed have passed. 

Upon all the mourning ones let this glory 
rest. Let faith in Thee and in immortality give 
them peace ! May the members of this family 
group be more closely bound together by this 
sacrament of sorrow. May they say *^ The Lord 
gave, and the Lord has suffered to go away, — 
blessed be the name of the Lord." Upon all 

42 



praters 

relatives present and absent may thy peace 
descend ! Upon all these loving friends gath- 
ered here to show their sympathy and affection 
and esteem, let Thy benediction rest. Oh God ! 
may all of us feel the solemnity of life — the 
certainty of death — our accountability for the 
use of privileges and powers ! May we lay hold 
on Eternal Life here and now ! May we love 
Thee and obey Thee and trust Thee and co-work 
with Thee ! May we love and honor and follow 
the dear Lord and Master ! May we honor Thy 
day of worship and meditation and aspiration ! 
May we co-work with Thy Church Universal and 
do our part to establish Thy kingdom in the 
earth ! 

May the angel of Death speak to our souls 
the truth that they who are still by our sides 
may be summoned to go hence before us. May 
we be glad to speak the word and do the deed 
it will be so blessed for us to remember that we 
have spoken and have done, when they shall have 
gone away, not waiting for the transfiguration 
which Death shall give, but having now the 
transfiguration which love itself bestows ! 

May we see that it is as natural to die as it is 
to be born — that we needs must die that we 
may put aside the mortal and be clothed upon 
by the immortal — that Death has entered the 
world by Thy ordination — by Thy love and not 

43 



Ube Comforter 

by Thy wrath — by Thy forethought and not by 
Thy afterthought — that, therefore, it must be 
for the best. 

And now, dear Father, let Thy grace be with 
these beloved as they shall bear away this sacred 
form out of which the spirit has departed. Be 
with them in that most solemn moment when it 
shall seem to them as if they were parting from 
their dear one. Speak then, oh Father, Thy com- 
forting word that he is not there — that it is but 
the dust that returns to dust — earth to earth — 
ashes to ashes — w^hile the spirit has winged its 
flight to Thee. Be with them in the homes 
where they dwell. If it be Thy will that they 
who have been with us in the tabernacles of the 
flesh may be permitted to draw nigh in spirit, 
grant that their spiritual presence may be felt. 
If it be not Thy will, then may they know that 
by the power of memory and of love, these be- 
loved ones shall ofttimes be with them still, so 
that, in many a moment, it shall seem to them 
as if again they saw their faces and as if again 
they heard their voices. 

And may the dear Master stand by their side ! 
May they see the radiance of his beloved face — 
may they hear the music of his voice — may 
they hear his blessed, blessed words — may 
they penetrate to the depth of their blessed 
meaning — may they live evermore under the 

44 



praters 

power of their benediction, as he declared, '^ Ye 
beheve in God, believe also in me. In my 
Father's house are many mansions. Because I 
live, ye shall live also. Peace I leave with you, 
my peace I give unto you : not as the world 
giveth give I unto you : Let not your heart be 
troubled, neither let it be afraid ! '' 

And unto Thee, dear Father, Eternal Spirit, 
in whom we live and move and have our beiug, 
give we the praise, and ascribe we the power, 
the glory, the majesty, the dominion, forever- 
more. Amen. h. b. 



45 



Service at tbe (Brave 



i 



Service at tbe (Brave^ 

Man that is born of a woman hath but a 
short time to Uve, and hath much trouble. He 
Cometh up, and is cut down, hke a flower ; he 
fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth 
in one stay. 

In the midst of life we are in death : of whom 
may we seek for succor, but of Thee, O Lord, 
in whom our souls do rest and hope ? 

We must work the work of Him that sent us 
while it is day ; the night cometh in which no 
man can work. 

From henceforth, blessed are the dead, who 
die in the Lord, even so saith the Spirit ; for 
they rest from their labors, and their works do 
follow them. 



A Hymn may be sung here^ or after the prayer. 



49 



Ube CommittaL 

Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God 
to take unto Himself the soul of His child, we 
therefore commit the body to the ground, earth 
to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the confi- 
dent assurance of a resurrection to immortal 
life, through our Lord Jesus Christ ; who over- 
came death and opened to all men the life of 
the Spirit ; according to the mighty working, 
whereby he is able to subdue all things unto 
himself. 

OR THIS. 

Forasmuch as the spirit, created in the image 
of God, hath returned unto Him who gave it, 
we therefore commit the body to the ground, 
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, look- 
ing to a more glorious body and a continued life 
beyond ; and trusting in the blessed faith and 
assurance of our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, 
who hath brought life and immortality to light, 
and opened to all men the life of the Spirit. 

Then shall be said: 
I heard a voice from Heaven, saying unto me. 
Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead 
who die in the Lord : even so saith the Spirit, 
for they rest from their labors. 

SO 



Service at tbe (Brave 

Then the Minister shall say one or both of 
tJie following Prayers at his discretion : 

Almighty God, with whom do Hve the spirits 
of those who depart hence in the Lord, and with 
whom the souls of the faithful are in joy and 
felicity ; we give Thee hearty thanks for the 
good examples of all those Thy servants, who, 
having finished their course in faith, do now rest 
from their labors. And we beseech Thee, that 
we, with all those who are departed in the faith 
of Thy holy name, may have our perfect con- 
summation and bliss, in Thy eternal and ever- 
lasting glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Amen. 

Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be 
Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be 
done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this 
day our daily bread. And forgive us our tres- 
passes, as we forgive those who trespass against 
us. And lead us not into temptation, but de- 
liver us from evil : for thine is the kingdom, and 
the power, and the glory, forever. Amen. 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy 
Spirit, be with us all evermore. Amen. 



SI 



poems 



I 

I 



IPoems 

ITnvocation* 

* • 

Answer me, burning stars of night I 

Where is the spirit gone, 
That past the reach of human sight 

As a swift breeze hath flown ? 
And the stars answered me : " We roll 

In light and power on high ; 
But, of the never-dying soul. 

Ask that which cannot die." 

O many-toned and changeless wind ! 

Thou art a wanderer free ; 
Tell me, if thou its place canst find 

Far over mount and sea ? 
And the wind murmured in reply : 

" The blue deep I have crossed, 
And met its barks and billows high. 

But not what thou hast lost." 

Ye clouds that gorgeously repose 

Around the setting sun. 
Answer ! have ye a home for those 

Whose earthly race is run ? 
The bright clouds answered : " We depart, 

We vanish from the sky ; 
Ask what is deathless in thy heart 

For that which cannot die." 

Speak, then, thou voice of God within, 
Thou of the deep, low tone 1 

55 



Ubc Comfotter 

Answer me, through life's restless din — 

Where is the spirit flown ? 
And the voice answered : " Be thou still 1 

Enough to know is given : 

Clouds, winds, and stars their part fulfil — 

Thine is to trust in Heaven." 

Mrs. Hemans. 



XLbc Secret of Deatb* 

*' She is dead," they said to him. "Come away; 
Kiss her and leave her, thy love is clay." 

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair ; 
On her forehead of stone they laid it fair ; 

With a tender touch they closed up well 
The sweet, thin lips that had secrets to tell ; 

And over her bosom they crossed her hands, — 
" Come away," they said, " God understands." 

But he who loved her too well to dread 
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, 

He lit his lamp, and took the key. 

And turned it. Alone again, — he and she. 

Then he said, " Cold lips and breast without breath. 
Is there no voice, no language of death ? 

" See now, I listen with soul, not ear: 
What was the secret of dying, dear ? 

" O perfect dead 1 O dead most dear 1 
I hold the breath of my soul to hear. 

56 



poems 

" There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, 
To make you so placid from head to feet 1 

" I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, 
And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed. 

"You should not ask vainly with streaming eyes, 
Which of all death's was the chief surprise.'* 

Who will believe what he heard her say, 
With a sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way ? 

" The utmost wonder is this : I hear. 

And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear ; 

" And am your angel, who was your bride, 

And know that, though dead, I have never died." 

Edwin Arnold. 



Btter Deatb In Brabia* 

He who died at Azan sends 
This to comfort all his friends : 

Faithful friends 1 it lies, I know, 
Pale and white and cold as snow ; 
And ye say, " Abdallah's dead 1 " 
Weeping at the feet and head. 
I can see your falling tears, 
I can hear your sighs and prayers ; 
Yet I smile and whisper this, — 
" / am not the thing you kiss. 
Cease your tears and let it lie ; 
It was mine, it is not I." 

57 



tlbe Comforter 

" Sweet friends, what the women lave, 

For the last sleep of the grave, 

Is a hut which I am quitting, 

Is a garment no more fitting. 

Is a cage from which, at last. 

Like a bird my soul hath passed. 

Love the inmate, not the room, — 

The wearer, not the garb, — the plume 

Of the falcon, not the bars 

Which kept him from those splendid stars. 

" Loving friends 1 be wise, and dry 
Straightway every weeping eye, — 
What ye Hft upon the bier 
Is not worth a wistful tear. 
'Tis an empty sea-shell, — one 
Out of which the pearl is gone ; 
The shell is broken, it lies there : 
The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. 
'Tis an earthen jar, whose lid 
Allah sealed, the while it hid 
That treasure of his treasury, 
A mind that loved him ; let it lie 1 
Let the shard be earth's once more. 
Since the gold shines in his store 1 

" Allah glorious 1 Allah good 1 
Now thy world is understood ; 
Now the long, long wonder ends ; 
Yet ye weep, my erring friends. 
While the man whom ye call dead, 
In unspoken bliss, instead. 
Lives and loves you, — lost, 'tis true, 
By such light as shines for you ; 
But in the light ye cannot see 
Of unfulfilled felicity, — 
In a perfect paradise, 
And a life that never dies. 

58 



poems 

" Farewell, friends 1 Yet not farewell : 
Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. 
I am gone before your face 
A moment's time, a little space. 
When ye come where I have stepped, 
Ye will wonder why ye wept ; 
Ye will know, by wise love taught. 
That here is ail, and there is naught. . 
Wesp awhile, if ye are fain : 
Sunshine still must follow rain ; 
Only not at death, — for death. 
Now I know, is that first breath 
Which our souls draw when we enter 
Life, w^hich is of all life centre. 

" Be ye certain all seems love. 

Viewed from Allah's throne above ; 

Be ye stout of heart, and come 

Bravely onward to your home 1 

La Allah illah Allah ! yea, 

Thou Love divine ! Thou Love alway 1 " 

He that died at Azan gave 

This to those who made his grave. 

Edwin Arnold. 



^ ^ 



Passing out of the shadow 

Into a purer light ; 
Stepping behind the curtain, 

Getting a clearer sight ; 

59 



Zbc Comtorter 

Laying aside a burden, 

This weary mortal coil 
Done with the world's vexations, 

Done with its tears and toil ; 

Tired of all earth's playthings, 
Heartsick and ready to sleep. 

Ready to bid our friends farewell. 
Wondering why they weep ; 

Passing out of the shadow 

Into eternal day, — 
Why do we call it dying. 

This sweet going away ? 



Anonymous. 



^ * 



The dead are like the stars by day, 
Withdrawn from mortal eye. 

Yet holding unperceived their way 
Through the unclouded sky. 

By them, through holy hope and love, 

We feel in hours serene, 
Connected with a w^orld above. 

Immortal and unseen. 

For Death his sacred seal hath set 
On bright and bygone hours ; 

And they we mourn are with us yet, 
Are more than ever ours ; — 

Ours by the pledge of love and faith. 
By hopes of heaven on high ; 

By trust triumphant over death. 
In immortality. 

60 



Barton. 



poems 

Nothing is our own ; we hold our pleasures 
Just a little while, ere they are fled : 

One by one life robs us of our treasures ; 
Nothing is our own except our Dead. 

They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping, 

Safe forever, all they took away. 
Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, 

Cruel time can never seize that prey. 

Justice pales ; truth fades ; stars fall from heaven ; 

Human are the great w^hom we revere : 
No true crown of honor can be given, 

Till we place it on a funeral bier. 

How the children leave us : and no traces 

Linger of that smiling angel band ; 
Gone, forever gone ; and in their places 

Weary men and anxious women stand. 

Yet we have some little ones, still ours ; 

They have kept the baby smile we know, 
Which we kissed one day, and hid with flowers, 

On their dead white faces, long ago. 

Is Love ours, and do we dream we know it. 
Bound with all our heart-strings, all our own ? 

Any cold and cruel dawn may show it, 
Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. 

Only the dead hearts forsake us never; 

Death's last kiss has been the mystic sign 
Consecrating Love our own forever, 

Crowning it eternal and divine. 

6i 



XCbe Comforter 

So when Fate would fain besiege our city, 
Dim our gold, or make our flowers fall, 
Death, the Angel, comes in love and pity. 

And, to save our treasures, claims them all. 

Adelaide A. Procter. 



TOlattincf b^ tbe (3ate. 

Beside a massive gateway built up in years gone by, 
Upon whose top the clouds in eternal shadow lie, 
While streams the evening sunshine on quiet wood and lea, 
I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me. 

The tree-tops faintly rustle beneath the breeze's flight, 
A soft and soothing sound, yet it whispers of the night ; 
I hear the wood-thrush piping one mellow descant more, 
And scent the flowers that blow when the heat of day is o'er. 

Behold, the portals open, and o'er the threshold, now. 
There steps a w^eary one with a pale and furrowed brow ; 
His count of years is full, his allotted task is wrought ; 
He passes to his rest from a place that needs him not. 

In sadness then I ponder how quickly fleets the hour 

Of human strength and action, man's courage and his power. 

I muse while still the wood-thrush sings down the golden 

day. 
And as I look and listen the sadness wears away. 

Again the hinges turn, and a youth, departing, throws 
A look of longing backward, and sorrowfully goes ; 
A blooming maid, unbinding the roses from her hair. 
Moves mournfully away from amid the young and fair. 

62 



IPoems 

O glory of our race that so suddenly decays 1 

O crimson flush of morning that darkens as we gaze ! 

breath of summer blossoms that on the restless air 
Scatters a moment's sweetness, and flies w^e know not where 1 

1 grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then with- 

drawn ; 
But still the sun shines round me : the evening bird sings on, 
And I again am soothed, and, beside the ancient gate, 
In the soft evening sunlight, I calmly stand and wait. 

Once more the gates are opened ; an infant group go out, 
The sweet smile quenched forever, and stilled the sprightly 
shout. 

frail, frail tree of Life, that upon the greensward strows 
Its fair young buds unopened, with every wind that blows I 

So come from every region, so enter, side by side, 
The strong and faint of spirit, the meek and men of pride. 
Steps of earth's great and mighty, between those pillars gray, 
And prints of little feet, mark the dust along the way. 

And some approach the threshold whose looks are blank with 

fear, 
And some whose temples brighten with joy in drawing near, 
As if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye 
Of him, the Sinless Teacher, who came for us to die. 

1 mark the joy, the terror; yet these, within my heart, 
Can neither wake the dread nor the longing to depart ; 
And, in the sunshine streaming on quiet wood and lea, 
I calmly stand and wait till the hinges turn for me. 

Bryant. 



63 



Ubc Comforter 

The fragrance of the rose, 
Whose dewy leaves in morning's light unclose, 

Goes not more sweetly up 
From its rich heart, as from an incense cup, 
Than thy freed spirit from its earthly shrine 
Passed with the still angel to the rest divine. 

Oh, no ! Thou didst not die 1 
Thou hast but lain the soul's frail vesture by, 

And soared to that pure height 
Where day serene is followed by no night. 
And where the discipline of mortal woe 
No shadow over thee can ever throw. 

Death never comes to such 
With chillness in the mystery of his touch : 

They gently pass away 
As melts the morning star in golden day ; 

They leave the places they have known below, 
And through the white gates of the morning go. 

We w^ould not call thee back 
To the frail flowers that wither on our track, 

Perhaps to have thy feet 
Pierced by the thorns that we so often meet : 
For thou art in that fairer w^orld than ours 
Where love mourns not the fading of the flowers. 

Why should we weep for thee 
When thy pure soul from every ill is free :*• 

Our only tears should flow 
For those, the loved, who linger still below, 
From whom the light of thy dear smile is fled, 
Who feel indeed that thou art with the dead. 

64 



poems 

We know the gloomy grave 
Holds not the spirit which our Father gave ; 

That loving, lustrous light, 
That made the sphere in which it moved so bright, 
Is shining with a clear and quenchless flame, 
Rekindled at the source from whence it came. 

Thou art not dead 1 For death 
Can only take away the mortal breath ; 

And life, commencing here, 
Is but the prelude to its full career ; 

And Hope and Faith the blest assurance give — 
" We do not live to die I We die to live ! " 

Anonymous. 

2)eatb ot a Si9tct. 

I WILL not mock thee with the poor world's common 

And heartless phrase. 
Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman 

With idle praise. 

With silence only as their benediction, 

God's angels come 
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction, 

The soul sits dumb 1 

Yet would I say what thy own heart approveth ; 

Our Father's will. 
Calling to him the dear one whom he loveth. 

Is mercy still. 

God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly 

What he hath given ; 
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly 

As in his heaven. 

65 



Ubc Comforter 

Up, then, my brother 1 Lo, the fields of harvest 

Lie white in view 1 
She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest 

To both is true. 



J. G. WhittieRc 



^ ^ 



Father, into thy loving hands 

My feeble spirit I commit, 
While wandering in these Border-Lands, 

Until thy voice shall summon it. 

Father, I would not dare to choose 
A longer life, an earlier death ; 

I know not what my soul might lose 
By shortened or protracted breath. 

These Border- Lands are calm and still, 
And solemn are their silent shades ; 

And my heart welcomes them, until 
The light of life's long evening fades. 

I hear them spoken of with dread, 
As fearful and unquiet places ; 

Shades, where the living and the dead 
Look sadly in each other's faces. 

But since thy hand hath led me here, 
And I have seen the Border- Land ; 

Seen the dark river flowing near. 
Stood on its brink, as now I stand ; 

There has been nothing to alarm 

My trembling soul ; how could I fear 

While thus encircled with thine arm ? 
I never felt thee half so near. 

66 



poems 

What should appal me in a place 
That brings me hourly nearer thee ? 

When I may almost see thy face — 
Surely 'tis here my soul would be. 

EUPHEMIA SaXBY. 

Why shouldst thou fear the beautiful angel, Death, 
Who waits thee at the portals of the skies, 

Ready to kiss away thy struggling breath, 
Ready with gentle hand to close thine eyes ? 

How many a tranquil soul has passed away, 
Fled gladly from fierce pain and pleasure's din, 

To the eternal splendor of the day ; 

And many a troubled heart still calls for him. 

Spirits too tender for the battle here 

Have turned from life, its hopes, its fears, its charms ; 
And children, shuddering at a world so drear. 

Have smiling passed away into his arms. 

He whom thou fearest will, to ease its pain, 
Lay his cold hand upon thy aching heart ; 

Will soothe the terrors of thy troubled brain. 
And bid the shadow^s of earth's grief depart. 

He will give back what neither time, nor might. 
Nor passionate prayer, nor longing hope restore, 

(Dear as to long blind eyes recovered sight,) 
He will give back those who are gone before. 

Oh, what were life, if life were all ? Thine eyes 
Are blinded by their tears, or thou wouldst see 

Thy treasures wait thee in the far-off skies, 

And Death, thy friend, will give them all to thee. 

A. A. Procter. 

67 



Xtbe Comforter 

I CANNOT say, and I will not say, 
That he is dead. He is just away 1 

With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand, 
He has wandered into an unknown land, 

And left us dreaming how very fair 
It needs must be since he lingers there. 

And you — O you, who the wildest yearn 
For the old-time step and the glad return — 

Think of him faring on, as dear 

In the love of There as the love of Here ; 

And loyal still, as he gave the blows 

Of his warrior strength to his country's foes — 

Mild and gentle, as he was brave, 

When the sweetest love of his life he gave 

To simple things ; — where the violets grew 
Pure as the eyes they were likened to, 

The touches of his hands have strayed 
As reverently as his lips have prayed ; 

When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred 
Was dear to him as the mocking-bird; 

And he pitied as much as a man in pain 
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain. 

Think of him still as the same, I say: 
He is not dead — he is just away 1 

" From Afterwhiles, used by permission 
OF The Bowen-Merrill Co." 

68 



poems 

DleentbralleD. 

Dead ! Do you say that he is dead ? 

Take back the word, it is not true 1 
An empty cage, you might have said, 

Has lost the singer that we knew — 
The song rose level with the stars. 
That charmed us even in prison bars. 

But dead ? There can be no such word 
For that which was serenely bright. 

Made in the image of the Lord, 
An effluence from the central light. 

An inbreathed essence from on high, 

A heaven-lit spark 1 that could not die. 

Not dead — but free — he soars above 
The limit of our lesser scope. 

And we, because we shared his love. 
May cherish the uplifting hope 

That life to us is more, by just 

His altitude above our dust. 

More by the power he has attained 

To minister as angels may ; 
More by the knowledge he has gained 

Of love's supremest, patient way ; 
Of blessing through the cloud or sun, 
So one all-perfect Will be done. 

And he (the thought is radiant) he 
This very moment may be near, 

With solace meted soothingly 
To feed a hope or hush a fear : 

So true it is, divinest things 

Come borne to us on hidden wings, 

69 



Zbc Comforter 

So well we know our Father's care 

Hovers about us, night and day, 
So sweet it is to think the air 

Is moved in a mysterious way 
By breath of one beloved on earth 
Grown lovelier by celestial birth. 

Then say not he is of the dead, 

'Tis only we in cerements dim. 
Who fail of life around, o'erhead; 

But say it nevermore of him 
Whom death to livelier joys has called. 
Who lives among us disenthralled. 

Mary B. Dodge. 



I CANNOT think of them as dead, 
Who walk with me no more ; 

Along the path of life I tread 
They have but gone before. 

My Father's house is mansioned fair 

Beyond my vision dim ; 
All souls are his, and here or there 

Are living unto him. 

And still their silent ministry 
Within my heart hath place, 

As when on earth they walked with me 
And met me face to face. 

Their lives are made forever mine ; 

What they to me have been 
Hath left henceforth its seal and sign 

Engraven deep within. 

70 



poems 

Mine are they by an ownership 
Nor time nor death can free ; 

For God hath given to Love to keep 
Its own eternally. 



F. L. HOSMER. 



^ T 



He does well who does his best ; 

Is he weary ? let him rest. 

Brothers ! I have done my best, 

I am weary — let me rest. 

After toiling oft in vain, 

Baffled, yet to struggle fain. 

After toiling long to gain 

Little good with weary pain, 

Let me rest. But lay me low 

Where the hedge-side roses blow, 

Where the little daisies grow. 

Where the winds a-maying go, 

Where the foot-path rustics plod, 

Where the breeze-bowed poplars nod, 

Where the old woods worship God, 

Where his pencil paints the sod. 

Where the wedded throstle sings, 

Where the young bird tries his wings. 

Where at times the tempests roar. 

Shaking distant sea and shore. 

To be heard by me no more ! 

There beneath the breezy west. 

Tired and thankful, let me rest 

Like a child that sleepeth best 

On its mother's gentle breast. 

Anonymous. 

.7^ 



Ube Comfottet 

Sleep* 

He sees when their footsteps falter, when their hearts grow 

weak and faint ; 
He marks when their strength is faihng, and Ustens to each 

complaint ; 
He bids them rest for a season, for the pathway has grown 

too steep ; 
And folded in fair green pastures, he giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

Like weary and worn-out children, that sigh for the daylight's 

close. 
He knows that they oft are longing for home and its sweet 

repose ; 
So he calls them in from their labors ere the shadows around 

them creep, 
And silently watching o'er them, he giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

He giveth it, oh 1 so gently, as a mother will hush to rest 
The babe that she softly pillows so tenderly on her breast ; 
Forgotten are now the trials and sorrow^s that made them 

weep. 
For with many a soothing promise, he giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

He giveth it 1 Friends the dearest can never this boon 

bestow ; 
But he touches the drooping eyelids, and placid the features 

grow ; 
Their foes may gather about them, and storms may round 

them sweep. 
But, guarding them safe from danger, he giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

72 



poems 

All dread of the distant future, all fears that oppressed 

to-day, 
Like mists that clear in the sunlight, have noiselessly passed 

away ; 
Nor call nor clamor can rouse them from slumbers so pure 

and deep, 
For only his voice can reach them, who giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

Weep not that their toils are over, weep not that their race 

is run 4 
God grant we may rest as calmly W'hen our work, like theirs, 

is donel 
Till then we would yield with gladness our treasures to him 

to keep. 

And rejoice in the sweet assurance, he giveth his loved ones 

sleep. 

Anonymous. 



^be Sleep* 

" He giveth his beloved sleeps Psalm cxxvii. 2, 

O^ all the thoughts of God that are 

Borne inward unto souls afar, 

Along the Psalmist's music deep, 
Now tell me if that any is. 
For gift or grace, surpassing this — 
" He giveth his beloved, sleep " ? 

What would we give to our beloved ? 
The hero's heart to be unmoved, 
The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep, 
The patriot's voice to teach and rouse, 
The monarch's crown to light the brows? 
*' He giveth his beloved, sleep." 

73 



Ube Comforter 

What do we give to our beloved ? 

A little faith all undisproved, 

A little dust to overweep, 

And bitter memories to make 

The whole earth blasted for our sake. 

*' He giveth his beloved, sleep." 

" Sleep soft, beloved 1 " we sometimes say, 
But have no tune to charm away 
Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep ; 
But never doleful dream again 
Shall break the happy slumber, when 
"He giveth his beloved, sleep." 

O earth, so full of dreary noises 1 
O men, with wailing in your voices 1 
O delved gold, the wailer's heap ! 
O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God strikes a silence through you all, 
And " giveth his beloved, sleep." 

His dews drop mutely on the hill. 
His cloud above it saileth still, 
Though on its slope men sow and reap. 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 
" He giveth his beloved, sleep." 

For me, my heart that erst did go 
Most like a tired child at a show, 
That sees through tears the mummers leap, 
Would now its wearied vision close. 
Would childlike on his love repose. 
Who " giveth his beloved, sleep 1 " 

And friends, dear friends, — when it shall be 
That this low breath is gone from me, 

74 



poems 

And round my bier ye come to weep, 
Let one, most loving of you all, 
Say, " Not a tear must o'er her fall — 
* He giveth his beloved, sleep ! '" 

E, B. BrowninGc 



I THINK it is over, over — 
I think it is over at last : 
Voices of foeman and lover. 

The sweet and the bitter have passed : 
Life, like a tempest of ocean. 

Hath outblown its ultimate blast. 

There's but a faint sobbing seaward. 
While the calm of the tide deepens leeward 
And behold I like the welcoming quiver 
Of heart pulses throbbed through the river, 
Those lights in the Harbor at last — 
The heavenly Harbor at last 1 

I feel it is over, over — 

The winds and the waters surcease : 
How few were the days of the Rover 

That smiled in the beauty of peace ! 
And distant and dim was the omen 
That hinted redress or release. 

From the ravage of Life and its riot, 
What marvel I yearn for the quiet 
Which bides in the Harbor at last ? — 
For the lights with their welcorning quiver 
That throb through the sanctified river, 
Which girdles the Harbor at last — 
The heavenly Harbor at last ? 

75 



Hbe Comforter 

I know it is over, over — 

I know it is over at last : 
Down sail ; the sheathed anchor uncover, 

For the stress of the voyage has passed : 
.Life, like a tempest of ocean. 

Hath outblown its ultimate blast. 

There's but a faint sobbing seaward, 
While the calm of the tide deepens leeward, 
And behold 1 like the w^elcoming quiver 
Of heart-pulses throbbed through the river, 
Those lights in the Harbor at last — - 
The heavenly Harbor at last ! 

Paul H. Hayne. 



Gone* 

Another hand is beckoning us, 

Another call is given ; 
And glows once more with angel-steps 

The path w^hich reaches heaven. 

Our young and gentle friend, whose smile 
Made brighter summer hours, 

Amid the frosts of autumn time, 
Has left us with the flowers. 

The light of her young life went down, 

As sinks behind the hill 
The glory of a setting star, — 

Clear, suddenly, and still. 

As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed ' 

Eternal as the sky ; 
And, like the brook's low^ song, her voice, • 

A sound w^hich could not die. 

76 



poems 

And half we deemed she needed not 

The changing of her sphere, 
To give to heaven a shining one, 

Who walked an angel here. 

The blessing of her quiet life 

Fell on us like the dew ; 
And good thoughts where her footsteps pressed, 

Like fairy blossoms grew. 

Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds 

Were in her very look ; 
We read her face as one who reads 

A true and holy book. 

We miss her in her place of prayer, 

And by the hearth-fire's light ; 
We pause beside her door to hear 

Once more her sweet " Good-Night 1 " 

There seems a shadow on the day, 

Her smile no longer cheers ; 
A dimness on the stars of night. 

Like eyes that look through tears. 

Alone unto our Father's will 

One thought hath reconciled ; 
That he w^hose love exceedeth ours 

Hath taken home his child. 

Fold her, O Father I in thine arms, 

And let her henceforth be 
A messenger of love between 

Our human hearts and thee. 

Still let her mild rebuking stand 

Between us and the wrong, 
And her dear memor}' serve to make 

Our faith in goodness strong. 

77 



Ube Comtorter 

And grant that she, who, trembling here, 

Distrusted all her powers. 

May welcome to her holier home 

The well-beloved of ours. 

J. G. Whittier. 

Q;bere 10 no 2)eatb. 

There is no death 1 The stars go down 

To rise upon some fairer shore ; 
And bright in Heaven's jewelled crown 

They shine for evermore. 

There is no death 1 The dust we tread 

Shall change beneath the summer showers 

To golden grain, or mellow fruit, 
Or rainbow tinted flowers. 

The granite rocks disorganize 

To feed the hungry moss they bear ; 

The forest leaves drink daily life 
From out the viewless air. 

There is no death 1 An angel form 

Walks o'er the earth with silent tread ; 

He bears our best loved things away, 
And then we call them " dead." 

He leaves our hearts all desolate. 

He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers ; 

Transplanted into bliss, they now 
Adorn immortal bowers. 

Born unto that undying life. 

They leave us but to come again ; 
With joy we welcome them — the same, 

Except in sin and pain. 

78 



poems 



And ever near us, though unseen, 

The dear immortal spirits tread ; 
For all the boundless universe 

Is life — there are no dead. 

E. BuLWER Lytton. 



^be Cboit IFnvlsible^ 

Oh may I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence ; live 

In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

Of miserable aims that end in self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars. 

And with their mild persistence urge men's minds 

To vaster issues, 

So to live is heaven. 
To make undying music in the world, 
Breathing as beauteous order, that controls 
With growing sway the growing life of man. 

This is life to come. 

Which martyred men have made more glorious 

For us who strive to follow. May I reach 

That purest heaven ; be to other souls 

The cup of strength in some great agony ; 

Enkindle generous ardor ; feed pure love ; 

Beget the smiles that have no cruelty ; 

Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 

And in diffusion ever more intense. 

So shall I join the choir invisible. 

Whose music is the gladness of the world. 

George Eliot. 

79 



Ube Comtorter 

The little feet that never trod 

Earth, never strayed in field or street, 
What hand leads upward back to God 
The little feet ? 



Their pilgrimage's period 

A few swift moons have seen complete 
Since mother's hands first clasped and shod 
The little feet. 

The little hands that never sought 

Earth's prizes, w^orthless all as sands, 
What gift has death, God's servant, brought 
The little hands ? 

Ere this, perchance, though love knows naught, 

Flowers fill them, grown in lovelier lands, 
Where hands of guiding angels caught 
The little hands. 

The little eyes that never knew 

Light other than of dawning skies, 
What new life now lights up anew 
The little eyes ? 

No storm, we know, may change the blue, 
Soft heaven that haply death descries ; 
No tears like these in ours bedew 
The little eyes, 

A. C. Swinburne. 



80 



ipoems 

XLbc IReapcr anD tbe aflowere* 

There is a Reaper whose name is Death, 

And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 

And the flowers that grow between. 

" Shall I have naught that is fair ? " saith he ; 

" Have naught but the bearded grain ? 
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 

I will give them all back again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 

He kissed their drooping leaves ; 
It was for the Lord of Paradise 

He bound them in his sheaves. 

" My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,'* 

The Reaper said, and smiled ; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where he was once a child. 

" They shall all bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by my care. 
And saints upon their garments white 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in tears and pain, 

The flowers she most did love ; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of light above. 

Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Reaper came that day ; 
'Twas an angel visited the green earth, 

And took the flowers away. 

H. W. Longfellow. 

8i 



TLbc Comtottet 



I CANNOT make him dead ! 

His fair sunshiny head 
Is ever bounding round my study chair ; 

Yet when my eyes, now dim 

With tears, I turn to him. 
The vision vanishes, — he is not there ! 

I walk my parlor floor, 

And, through the open door, 
I hear a footfall on the chamber stair ; 

I'm stepping toward the hall 

To give the boy a call ; 
And then bethink me that — he is not there I 

I know his face is hid 

Under the coffin lid. 
Closed are his eyes ; cold is his forehead fair ; 

My hand that marble felt ) 

O'er it in prayer I knelt ; 
Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there 1 

Not there 1 Where, then, is he ? 

The form I used to see 
Was but the raiment that he used to wear. 

The grave, that now doth press 

Upon that cast-off dress. 
Is but his w^ardrobe locked ; he is not there I 

He lives ! — in all the past 

He lives ; nor to the last. 
Of seeing him again will I despair ; 

In dreams I see him now ; 

And, on his angel brow, 
I see it written, " Thou shalt see me t/iere /" 

82 



poems 

Yes, we all live to God 1 

Father, thy chastening rod 
So help us, thine aflfiicted ones, to bear, 

That, in the spirit land. 

Meeting at thy right hand, 
^Twill be our heaven to :find that — he is there. 

John Pierpont, 



Sbe 16 mot 2)ead, JSut Sleepetb* 

The baby wept ; 
The mother took it from the nurse's arms. 
And soothed its griefs, and stilled its vain alarms, 

And baby slept. 

Again it weeps ; . 

And God doth take it from the mother's arms, 
From present pain, and future unknown harms. 

And baby sleeps. 

Samuel Hinds. 



XTbe Cbangeling* 

I HAD a little daughter. 

And she was given to me 
To lead me gently backward 

To the heavenly Father's knee, 
That I by the force of nature. 

Might, in some dim wise, divine 
The depth of his infinite patience 

To this wayward soul of mine. 

83 



XTbe Comtorter 

I know not how others saw her, 

But to me she was wholly fair, 
And the light of the heaven she came from 

Still lingered and gleamed in her hair ; 
For it was as wavy and golden, 

And as many changes took, 
As the shadow of sun-gilt ripples 

On the yellow bed of a brook. 

She had been with us scarce a twelvemonth. 

And it hardly seemed a day, 
When a troop of wandering angels 

Stole my little daughter away ; 
Or perhaps those heavenly guardians 

But loosed the hampering strings, 
And when they had opened her cage door 

My little bird used her wings. 

But they left in her stead a changeling, 

A little angel child, 
That seems like her bud in full blossom, 

And smiles as she never smiled. 
This child is not mine as the first was, 

I cannot sing it to rest, 
I cannot lift it up fatherly 

And bliss it upon my breast ; 
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle. 

And sits in my little one's chair. 
And the light of the heaven she's gone to 

Transfigures its golden hair. 



J. Ro Lowell. 



Xtttle Cbll^ren^ 

In the baron's hall of pride, 
By the poor man's dull fireside, 

84 



poems 

'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean, 
Little children may be seen. 
Like the flowers that spring up fair, 
Bright and countless everywhere! 

Blessings on them ! they in me 
Move a kindly sympathy, 
"With their wishes, hopes, and fears ; 
With their laughter and their tears ; 
With their wonder so intense, 
And their small experience 1 

Little children, not alone 
On this wide earth are ye known ; 
'Mid its labors and its cares, 
'Mid its sufferings and its snares ; 
Free from sorrow, free from strife, 
In the world of love and life. 
Where no sinful thing hath trod — 
In the presence of your God, 
Spotless, blameless, glorified — 
Little children, ye abide. 



Mary Howitt. 



^ >b 



CbllDl6b Sect are Straying IbomewarD^ 

Childish feet are straying Homeward, 

Some have entered there to-day. 
Passed, perchance, from paths of darkness, 

To the peace for w^hich we pray. 
Gone, we know not from w^hat suffering, — 

Fled, we know not from what sin, — 
O ye gates that open Heavenward, 

Swing together, shut them in 1 

8s 



Zbe Comforter 

They at least are safe from falling 

On the battlefield of life, 
Overcome, as thousands have been, 

By temptation, care, and strife ; 
And have died with hands close gathered 

In the tender clasp of ours ; 
God be thanked that we could fold them 

Pure as snow and full of flowers 1 

So, O Father, to thy keeping 

Give we what we call " our own,'* 
Gone a little time before us 

Through the portals leading Home ; 
Safe from all the storms of sorrow, 

Dark'ning now their land of birth. 
Given with tears for hope lights faded, 

To the breast of mother earth. 

Yet with love's divinest token 

Yielded to a tenderer care 
Than the homes below can give them, 

Or our human weakness bear, 
They are safe from pain and sorrow, 

We alone can bear the rod. 
With these blossoms safely nurtured 

In the garden of our God. 



Bartholomew. 



* * 



XLbc Blptne Sbeep^ 

After our child's untroubled breath 
Up to the Father took its way. 

And on our home the shade of death 
Like a long twilight haunting lay ; 

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poems 

And friends came round, with us to weep 
Her little spirit's swift remove, — 

The story of the Alpine sheep 
Was told to us by one we love. 

They, in the valley's sheltering care, 
Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, 

And when the sod grows brown and bare 
The shepherd strives to make them climb 

To airy shelves of pastures green. 

That hang along the mountain's side, 

Where grass and flowers together lean, 

And down through mists the sunbeams slide. 

But nought can tempt the timid things 
The steep and rugged path to try, 

Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings. 
And seared below the pastures lie, — 

Till in his arms their lambs he takes. 

Along the dizzy verge to go. 
Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks, 

They follow on, o'er rock and snow. 

And in those pastures, lifted fair. 
More dewy soft than lowland mead, 

The shepherd drops his tender care, 
And sheep and lambs together feed. 

This parable, by nature breathed. 
Blew on me as the south wind free 

O'er frozen brooks, that flow unsheathed 
From icy thraldom to the sea. 

A blissful vision, through the night, 
Would all my happy senses vSway, 

Of the good shepherd on the height, 
Or climbing up the stony way, 

87 



Ube Comforter 

Holding our little lamb asleep, 

While, like the murmur of the sea, 

Sounded that voice along the deep. 
Saying " Arise, and follow me 1 " 



Maria Lowell. 



IReei^nation. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there 1 
There is no fireside, howsoever defended. 

But has one vacant chair I 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead j 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying. 

Will not be comforted 1 

Let us be patient 1 These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors : 

Amid these earthly damps. 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no death 1 What seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 



poems 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

l^ehold her grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 

May reach her where she lives. 

fl 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For, when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her. 

She will not be a child. 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though, at times, impetuous with emotion 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the ocean 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing. 

The grief that must have way. 

H. W. Longfellow. 



89 



XTbe Comforter 

Where the mountains slope to the westward, 

And their purple chalices hold 
The new made wine-of the sunset — 

Crimson and amber and gold — 

In this old, wide-opened doorway, 
With the elm-boughs overhead — • 

The house all garnished behind her. 
And the plentiful table spread — 

She has stood to welcome our coming, 

Watching our upward climb. 
In the sweet June weather that brought us, 

Oh, many and many a time 1 

To-day, in the gentle splendor 

Of the early summer noon — 
Perfect in sunshine and fragrance 

Although it is hardly June — 

Again is the doorway opened. 

And the house is garnished and sweet ; 
But she silently waits for our coming ; 

And we enter with silent feet. 

A little within she is waiting. 

Not where she has met us before ; 

For. over the pleasant threshold 
She has only to cross once more. 

The smile on her face is quiet, 

And a lily is on her breast ; 
Her hands are folded together, 

And the word on her lips is *' rest." 

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poems 

And yet it looks like a welcome, 

For her work is compassed and done ; 

All things are seemly and ready, 
And her summer is just begun. 

It is we who may not cross over : 

Only with song and prayer, 
A little way into the glory, 

We may reach as we leave her there. 

But we cannot think of her idle ; 

She must be a home-maker still ; 
God giveth that work to the angels 

Who fittest the task fulfil ; 

And somewhere, yet, in the hilltops 

Of the country that hath no pain. 

She will watch in her beautiful doorway, 

To bid us a welcome again, 

A. D. T. Whitney. 

XLbc 1bome:=See?ien 

I. 

Tw^iLiGHT falls : a tiny maiden 

Cometh up the village street: 
Vagrant locks, all dewy laden, 

Eager eyes and tired feet 
Hath the shadowy little maiden. 

Tired of wandering and of playing, 

Up the dim street see her come 1 
Hurrying now, and now delaying. 

Toward the rest and love of home, 
Comes the maiden from her playing. 

91 



Ube Comforter 

II. 

See I again 1 a woman hasting 

Down a shadowy, sunset way, 
Loving, anxious glances casting 

Through the twiUght soft and gray ; 
Homeward, love-ward she is hasting. 

Laughing children run to meet her 

From the home-door open wide ; 
Loving words and kisses greet her, 

Pattering feet run by her side ; 
All the home comes forth to meet her. 

III. 

Look once more 1 a pilgrim weary 

Standeth in the twilight gray; 
All around is strange and dreary. 

As she asks, with plaintive query, 
" Can you show the homeward way } 

Lead me homeward : I am weary." 

Then a Presence stood to guide her, 

Pointing where the way did lie ; 
Gently spoke, and walked beside her 

To a gateway dim and high. 

" Home I *' she breathed with restful sigh, 
To the Presence that did guide her. 

IV. 

Homeward still, the tiny maiden, 
Motherhood, love- and care-laden, 
Age, with weight of years oppressed,. 
Homeward turn for love and rest. 
And the home, with open door. 
Waits with '* Welcome " evermore. 

W. H. Savage. 

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*We bent o'er a coffined form, 

And our tears fell softly down ; 
We looked our last on the aged face, 
With its look of peace, its patient grace, 

And hair like a silver crown. 

We touched our own to the clay-cold hands, 

From life's long labor at rest ; 
And among the blossoms white and sweet 
We noted a bunch of golden wheat. 

Clasped close to the silent breast. 

The blossoms whispered of fadeless bloom, 

Of a land where fall no tears ; 
The ripe wheat told of toil and care, 
The patient waiting, the trusting prayer, 

The garnered good of the years. 

We knew not what work her hands had found. 

What rugged places at her feet ; 
What cross was hers, what blackness of night ; 
We saw but the peace, the blossoms white, 

And the bunch of ripened wheat. 

As each goes up from the field of earth. 

Bearing the treasure of life, 
God looks for some gathered grain of good, 
From the ripe harvest that shining stood. 

But waiting the reaper's knife. 

Then labor well, that in death you go 

Not only with blossoms sweet, — 
Not bent with doubt, and burdened with fears. 
And dead, dry husks of the wasted years, — 
But laden with golden wheat. 

Eliza O. Peirson. 

93 



Zbc Comtorter 

I SAW an aged man upon his bier ; 

His hair was thin and white, and on his brow 
A record of the cares of many a year, — 

Cares that were ended and forgotten now. 
And there was sadness round, and faces bowed, 
And woman's tears fell fast, and children wailed aloud. 

Then rose another hoary man, and said. 
In faltering accents to that weeping train, 

" Why mourn ye that our aged friend is dead ? 
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain : 

Nor when their mellow fruits the orchards cast. 

Nor when the yellow woods let fall the ripened mast, 

" Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled, — 
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky, — 

In the soft evening, when the winds are stilled, 
Sinks where his islands of refreshment lie. 

And leaves the smile of his departure spread 

O'er the warm-colored heaven and ruddy mountain-head. 

" Why weep ye then for him, who, having won 
The bound of man's appointed years, at last, 

Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done. 
Serenely to his final rest has passed; 

While the soft memory of his virtues yet 

Lingers, like twilight hues when the bright sun is set. 

" His youth was innocent ; his riper age 

Marked with some act of goodness every day ; 

And watched by eyes that loved him, calm and sage, 
Faded his late declining years away : 

Meekly he gave his being up, and went 

To share the holy rest that waits a life well spent. 

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poems 

" That life was happy ; every day he gave 
Thanks for the fair existence that was his ; 

For a sick fancy made him not her slave, 
To mock him with her phantom miseries. 

No chronic tortures racked his aged limbs, 

For luxury and sloth had nourished none for him. 

" And I am glad that he has lived thus long. 
And glad that he has gone to his reward ; 

Nor can I deem that Nature did him wrong, 
Softly to disengage the vital cord ; 

For when his hand grew palsied, and his eye 

Dark with the mists of age, it was his time to die." 

W. C. Bryant. 



n:be afinlabeD %itc. 

There's a beauty of the spring-time 
With its fresh grass and its flowers, 
With the song-birds in the branches 
And the children's happy hours. 

But there is no less of beauty 
When the leaves turn gold and brown 
In the short'ning days of autumn, 
And far south the birds have flown. 

If the rough hand of the tempest 
Tears away the fresh young leaves, 
Over youthful vigor w^asted. 
Who can wonder if one grieves ? 

But when off the autumn branches 
Drop the brown leaves one by one, 
Seems it then as fair and fitting 
As the setting of* the sun. 

95 



XTbe Comforter 

Here the old man by the fireside 
Backward looks through tender tears, 
And he says, *' With wife and children 
Trod I long and happy years." 

As he sitteth by the window 
Looking o'er the city ways. 
Whispers he, " Success and honor 
Have been mine in gone-by days. 

" I have seen the world's fair beauty ; 
I have tasted all its sweet ; 
Now, beyond my two and threescore, 
Life for me is all complete. 

** For the face of her who loved me 
Beckons to me far away : 
I have wTought the work God gave me. 
Then why should I longer stay? " 

And of friends, who'd dare to keep him ? 

Let us sound no fun'r'al knell ; 

But say of his life, " ' Twas blessed ! " 

And say of his death, " ^Tiswell ! " 

M. J. Savage. 

Zhc (5ooD ©ID GtanDmotbet* 

O, SOFTLY waves the silver hair 

From off that aged brow 1 
That crown of glory, worn so long, 

A fitting crown is now. 

Fold reverently the weary hands 

That toiled so long and well ; 
And while your tears of sorrow fall 

Let sweet thanksgivings swell. 

96 " 



poems 

That life-work stretching o'er long years 

A varied web has been ; 
With silver strands by sorrow wrought, 

And sunny gleams between. 

These silver hairs stole slowly on, 

Like flakes of falling snow, 
That wrap the green earth lovingly 

When autumn breezes blow 1 

Each silver hair, each wrinkle there, 
Records some good deed done ; 

Some flower she cast along the way, 
Some spark from love's bright sun. 

How bright She always made the home 1 

It seemed as if the floor 
Was always flecked with spots of sun, 

And barred with brightness o'er. 

The very falling of her step 

Made music as she went ; 
A loving song w^as on her lip. 

The song of full content. 

And now, in later years, her word 

Has been a blessed thing 
In many a home, where glad she saw 

Her children's children spring. 

Her widow^ed life has happy been 
With brightness born of heaven ; 

So pearl and gold in drapery fold 
The sunset couch at even. 

O gently fold the weary hands 
That toiled so long and well 1 

The spirit rose to angel bands, 
When off earth's mantle fell. 

97 



Ube Comforter 

She's safe within her Father's house 

Where many mansions be ; 
O pray that thus such rest may come 

Dear hearts, to thee and me I 

Anonymous. 

SbaDow anD Sunlt^bt* 

Why can we mourn, when, gently as the light 
Glides into day, thy spirit, glad and free, 
Went forth to break into the new, glad song 
That raptured souls are singing endlessly ? 

Why should our hearts lie heavy in this grief, 
When in the ways of peace her feet have gone ; 
When, like the fruit turned golden in the sun, 
The Master came and chose the ripest one ? 

He came to give the worn-out body rest. 
To soothe to quiet every throbbing pain, 
And still the voice of longing and regret 
In a deep calm that naught can break again. 

He came with heavy hand, but good intent, — 
For her the sweetest smile, for us the frown, — 
To lead her from the shadow of her cross 
Up to the peaceful sunlight of her crown. 

Her hidden life in broadened lines will run, 
Her loving spirit blossom more and more : 
For us 'tis death, for her 'tis life of life. 
The opening, not the closing of the door. 

We may not hear the voice so strangely dumb. 

We may not touch the hand so strangely cold ; 

" Dust unto dust," — we bow to the decree. 

But she herself is ours to love and hold. 

E. W. Preble. 

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poems 

XLbc BeaD One's UKscbb^qc. 

Could now the silence of these Hps 
Wake into speech once more to-day, 
With their sweet tones of old-time love, 
What last words, think you, would they say ? 

" Weep for me tenderly ; for I, 
Were you here lying in my place, 
Would press my warm lips on your brow, 
And rain the hot tears on your face. 

" For is it not death's sting to know 
That, howe'er happy, still apart 
Our pathways lead us, while the old. 
Strong love still yearns within the heart ? 

** And, when this body's laid away, 

I'd have you my low earth-bed make 

All fresh with grass, and sweet with flowers, 

And sacred for the old-time's sake. 

" But then, sweet friends, look up and on 1 
Let sunshine all the clouds break through ; 
And do not, for my sake, forget 
Whaty^r tAe living you should do 1 

" Let not the shadow of my loss 
Darken the path the living tread; 
But let the memories of my past 
Still cheer and help, though I am dead. 

" These ears can hear your words no more, 
However fondly you may speak : 
For my sake, then, with words of love, 
The living cheer ^ and help the weak. 

" My heart, now still, no longer aches : 
But weary thousands watch and wake 

L.ofC. 99 



Ube Comfotter 

Through dreary nights and hopeless days ; 
Help them before their sad hearts break I 

" Your willing hands for me have wrought; 
But now I need your help no more, 
The service you would render me 
Give those who suffer at your door. 

" Cherish my memory in your heart ! 
But, lest it grow a selfish thing, 
Make channels for a thousand streams, 
Of which my love shall be the spring. 

" So from the grave I still may speak ; 
Still help the sorrowing world to bless ; 
Still live, though dead, and swell the tide 

Of human love and happiness." 

M. J. Savage. 



McBBC^ ate G^bei^ tbat /IBourn^ 

Oh, deem not they are blessed alone 
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep 1 

The Power who pities man, hath shown 
A blessing for the eyes that weep. 

The light of smiles shall fill again 
The lids that overflow with tears ; 

And weary hours of woe and pain 
Are promises of happier years. 

There is a day of sunny rest 

For every dark and troubled night ; 

And grief may bide an evening guest, 
But joy shall come with early light. 

lOO 



poems 

And thou who, o'er thy friend's low bier, 
Dost shed the bitter drops like rain, 

Hope that a brighter, happier sphere 
Will give him to thy arms again. 

Nor let the good man's trust depart, 
Though life its common gifts deny, — 

Though with a pierced and bleeding heart. 
And spumed of men, he goes to die. 

For God hath marked each sorrowing day, 

And numbered every secret tear. 
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 

For all his children suffer here. 

William C. Bryant. 



When falls the night upon the earth. 

And all in shadow lies. 
The sun's not dead: his radiance still 

Beams bright on other skies. 

And when the dawn star groweth dim 

Upon the brow of mom. 
It still shines on, though earthly eyes. 

That miss it, grow forlorn. 

Some other world is glad to see 

Our star that's gone away : 
The light whose going makes our night 

Makes somewhere else a day. 

The feet that cease their walking here, 
Tired of the way they've trod, 

lOI 



Ube Comforter 

With strength renewed go travelling 
The pathway up to God. 

The hand whose patient fingers now 

Have laid earth's labor by, 
With loving skill has taken up 

Some higher ministry. 

The eyes that give no longer back 

The tender look of love, 
Now, with a deathless gleam, drink in 

God's beauteous world above. 

The lips whose sweet tones made us ask 

If angels sweeter sung. 
Though silent here, make heaven glad 

With their melodious tongue. 

And, though her body lies asleep, 

Our favorite is not dead ; 
She rises through dark death's bright birth, 

** With joy upon her head." 

And she is just our loved one still. 

And loves us now no less ; 
She goes away to come again, — 

To watch us, and to bless. 

And though we cannot clasp her hand, 

Nor look upon her face. 
Nor listen to her voice again, 

Nor watch her ways of grace, — 

Still we can keep her memory bright. 

And walk the way she trod, 
And trust she waits until we come 

Up to the house of God. 

I02 



IPoems 

Let lis be thankful, through our tears, 

That she was ours so long, 

And try to hush our tones of grief, 

And listen to her song. 

M. J, Savage. 

Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 

Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea ; 
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 

For lo I my own shall come to me. 

I stay my haste, I make delays, 

For what avails this eager pace ? 
I stand amid the eternal ways, 

And what is mine shall know my face. 

Asleep, awake, by night or day, 

The friends I seek are seeking me ; 
No wind can drive my bark astray, 

Nor change the tide of destiny. 

What matter if I stand alone ? 

I wait with joy the coming years ; 
My heart shall reap where it has sown, 

And garner up its fruit of tears. 

The waters know their owm, and draw 
The brook that springs in yonder height; 

So flows the good with equal law 
Unto the soul of pure delight. 

The stars come nightly to the sky; 

The tidal' wave unto the sea ; 
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high. 
Can keep my own away from me. 

John Burroughs. 
103 



Zbc Comtorter 



The ship may sink, 

And I may drink 
A hasty death in the bitter sea ; 

But all that I leave 

In the ocean grave 
Can be slipped and spared, and no loss to me. 

What care I, 

Though falls the sky, 
And the shrivelling earth to a cinder burn ? 

No fires of doom 

Can ever consume 
What never was made nor meant to burn. 

Let go the breath ! 

There is no death 
To the living soul, nor loss, nor harm. 

Not of the clod 

Is the life of God : 
Let it mount, as it will, from form to form. 

Charles G. Ames. 

a5le60e& ate ^hc^ tbat /iRoutn, 

Oh, deem not that earth's crowning bliss 

Is found in joy alone ; 
For sorrow, bitter though it be, 

Hath blessings all its own ; 
From life divine, like healing balm, 

To hearts oppressed and torn, 
His heavenly consolation fell, — 

** Blessed are they that mourn I " 

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poems 

As blossoms smitten by the rain 

Their sweetest odors yield, 
As where the ploughshare deepest strikes 

Rich harvests crown the field, 
So, to the hopes by sorrow crushed, 

A nobler faith succeeds ; 
And life, by trials furrowed, bears 

The fruit of loving deeds. 

"Who never mourned, hath never known 

What treasures grief reveals: 
The sympathies that humanize, 

The tenderness that heals, 
The power to look within the veil 

And learn the heavenlv lore, 
The key-word to life's mysteries. 

So dark to us before. 

How rich and sweet and full of strength 

Our human spirits are. 
Baptized into the sanctities 

Of suffering and of prayer I 
Supernal wisdom, love divine, 

m 

Breathed through the lips which said, 
" Oh, blessed are the souls that mourn — 
They shall be comforted 1 " 

William Henry Burlbigh. 



Sometime* 

Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned, 
And sun and stars for evermore have set, 

The things which our weak judgment here have spurned, 
The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet, 

los • 



Zbc Comforter 

Will flash before us, out of life's dark night, 
As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue ; 

And we shall see how all God's plans were right, 
And how what seemed reproof w^as love most true. 

And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh, 

God's plans go on as best for you and me ; 
How, when we called, he heeded not our cry, 

Because his wisdom to the end could see. 
And e'en as prudent parents disallow 

Too much of sweet to craving babyhood. 
So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now 

Life's sweetest things, because it seemeth good. 

And if, sometimes, commingled with life's wine. 

We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink. 
Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine 

Pours out this potion for our lips to drink. 
And if some friend we love is lying low, 

Where human kisses cannot reach his face, 
Oh, do not blame the loving Father so. 

But wear your sorrow with obedient grace 1 

And you will shortly know that lengthened breath 

Is not the sweetest gift God sends his friends, 
And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death 

Conceals the fairest boon his love can send. 
If we could push ajar the gates of life. 

And stand within, and all God's workings see, 
We could interpret all this doubt and strife, 

And for each mystery could find a key 1 

But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart 1 
God's plans, like lilies, pure and white unfold ; 

We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart, 
Time will reveal the chalices of gold. 

io6 



poems 

And if, through patient toil, we reach the land 
Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest, 

When we shall clearly know and understand, 
I think that we will say, " God knew the best 1 " 

May Riley Smith. 

Ipra^er tor Stren^tb^ 

Father, before thy footstool kneeling, 
Once more my heari: goes up to thee, 

For aid, for strength to thee appealing, 
Thou who alone canst succor me. 

Hear me 1 for heart and flesh are failing. 

My spirit yielding in the strife ; 
And anguish, wild as unavailing, 

Sweeps in a flood across my life. 

Help me to stem the tide of sorrow ; 

Help me to bear thy chastening rod; 
Give me endurance ; let me borrow 

Strength from thy promise, O my God 1 

Not mine the grief which words may lighten; 

Not mine the tears of common woe : 
The pang with which my heart-strings tighten, 

Only the All -seeing One may know. 

And oh ! in my exceeding weakness. 

Make thy strength perfect ; thou art strong : 

Aid me to do thy will with meekness, — 
Thou, to whom all my powers belong. 

Oh 1 let me feel that thou art near me ; 

Close to my side, I shall not fear : 

Hear me, O strength of Israel, hear me 1 

Sustain and aid 1 in mercy hear 1 

Anonymous. 

107 



XTbe Comforter 



mt a Xlttle Timbile. 

Oh 1 for the peace which floweth as a river, 
Making life's desert places bloom and smile. 

Oh ! for a faith to grasp heaven's bright forever 
Amid the shadows of earth's " little while.'* 

A little while for patient vigil-keeping, 

To face the storm, to wrestle with the strong ; 

A little while to sow the seed with weeping, 

Then bind the sheaves, and sing the harvest-song. 

A little while midst shadow and illusion, 

To strive, by faith, love's mysteries to spell ; 

Then read each dark enigma's bright solution. 

Then hail sight's verdict, " He doth all things well I " 

And he who is himself the Gift and Giver, 

The future glory and the present smile, 

With the bright promise of the glad " forever " 

Will light the shadows of earth's " little while." 

Jane Crewdsome. 



What shall I do with all the days and hours 
That must be counted ere I see thy face ? 

How shall I charm the interval that lowers 

Between this time and that sweet time of grace? 



I'll tell thee : for thy sake, I will lay hold 
Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, 

In worthy deeds, each moment that is told 
While thou, beloved one, art far from me. 

io8 



poems 

For thee I will arouse my thoughts to try 

All heavenward flights, all high and holy strains ; 

For thy dear sake I will walk patiently 

Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains. 

I will this weary blank of absence make 
A noble task-time, and will therein strive 

To follow excellence, and to o'ertake 

More good than I have won since yet I live. 

So may this darksome time build up in me 
A thousand graces which shall thus be thine ; 

So may my love and longing hallowed be. 
And thy dear thought an influence divine. 

Frances Anne Kemble. 



jfrom Cbrt6tu0 \t)tctor» 

XXIV. 

A TOMB was built of massive stones. 
Fast clamped with many an iron band ; 

Below, among ancestral bones, 
Lay the last noble of the land. 

" Closed be this tomb, these stones unmoved,'* 

So ran the legend graven deep, 
" Their line is done, their worth is proved. 

Let them in peace forever sleep." 

A tiny seed came floating by, 

Borne gently on the summer breeze, 

A living germ, not doomed to die, 
Offspring of sturdy forest trees, 

109 



Ube Comforter 

It fell to earth unheard, unseen, 

Within a little crevice lay, 
And slumbered there in peace serene, 

Unknown, unnoticed, many a day. 

Its rootlet slowly downward crept 

Through narrow paths with granite walled, 
Where long- dead generations slept ; 

Nor was it by the gloom appalled. 

Its fibres grappled with the dead 

That dwelt in ghastly grandeur there ; 

Upon their mouldering ashes fed. 
Transmuting dust to verdure fair. 

Into the air the seedling sped. 

The tree rejoicing sought the light ; 

Its branches triumphed o'er the dead 
That long had lain in slumberous night. 

Till, nourished by the sun and rain. 
It gathered strength from day to day ; 

Then rent its mighty bonds in twain 
And rolled the granite rocks away. 

The sunlight trespassed in the tomb, 

The breezes laughed with fragrant breath, 

New life dispelled the ancient gloom. 

And mocked the vaunted power of death I 



XXXI. 

Low hung the sky, and gray and chill, 
The woodland missed the joyous glow 
Of summer, faded long ago ; 

The moaning wind swept round the hill. 

no 



poems 

As each wild gust fled hurrying by, 

Dead leaves like rainfall smote the ground ; 
And, rustling with regretful sound, 

The trees made answer with a sigh. 

My heart was heavy with the thought : 

" Must we, too, shrivel in the blast 

Of death, and perish at the last ? — 
Must life's fair promise come to naught ? 

" Are lives as fruitless as they seem ? 

The future but a vision fair 

That, fading, leaves us to despair ? 
And is immortal hope a dream ? " 

Nay, cheer thee. Heart, for even now 

Where from the stem dead leaves are torn, 
Lo, autumn buds of spring are born ; 

And Hope is writ on every bough. 

Though wintry dirges round me wail, 

I hear the sw^aying branches sing, 

I hear faint murmurs of the spring ; 
These buds will wake and life prevail 1 

Reprinted, with permission, from " Christus Victor," by Henry 
Nehemiah Dodge, A. M., Litt. D. Published by G. P. Putnam's Sons, 
New York and London. 



Those we love truly never die. 
Though year by year the sad memorial wreath, 
A ring and flowers, types of life and death. 

Are laid upon their graves. 

Ill 



Ube Comforter 

For death the pure life saves, 
And life all pure is love ; and love can reach 
From heaven to earth, and nobler lessons teach 

Than those by mortals read. 

Well blessed is he who has a dear one dead : 
A friend he has vv^hose face will never change — 
A dear communion that will not grow strange ; 

The anchor of a love is death. 

The blessed sweetness of a loving breath 
Will reach our cheek all fresh through weary years. 
For her who died long since, ah ! waste not tears. 

She's thine unto the end. 

John Boyle O'Reilly. 



* ^ 



(5ooi>^JB^Cf till flftorntns* 

" Good-bye, till morning come again 1 " 

We part, but not with aught of pain, 

The night is short, and hope is sweet, 

It fills our hearts and wings our feet ; 
And so we sing the glad refrain, 
" Good-bye, till morning comes again I " 

" Good-bye, till morning come again 1 " 
The shade of death brings thought of pain, 
But could we know how short the night 
That falls and hides them from our sight, 
Our hearts would sing the glad refrain, 
** Good-bye, till morning comes again 1 " 

ANONYMOUSt 

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poems 

2)ropplng Down tbe Wvcu 

Dropping down the troubled river, 

To the tranquil, tranquil shore ; 
Dropping down the misty river, 
Time's willow-shaded river, 

To the spring embosomed shore ; 
Where the sweet light shineth ever, 

And the sun goes down no more ; 

O wondrous, wondrous shore I 

Dropping down the winding river, 

To the wide and welcome sea ; 
Dropping down the narrow river, 
Man's weary, wayward river, 

To the blue and ample sea ; 
Where no tempest wrecketh ever, 

Where the sky is fair and free ; 

O joyous, joyous sea 1 

Dropping down the noisy river, 

To our peaceful, peaceful home; 
Dropping down the turbid river, 
Earth's bustling, crowded river, 

To our gentle, gentle home : 
Where the rough roar riseth never, 

And the vexings cannot come, 

O loved and longed-for home 1 

Dropping down the rapid river, 

To the dear and deathless land ; 
Dropping down the well-known river. 
Life's swoln and rushing river, 

To the resurrection-land ; 
Where the living live forever. 

And the dead have joined the band, 

In that fair and blessed land I 

Hqratius Bonar. 

113 



XCbe Comtorter 

^be Deserted Ibouee* 

Life and Thought have gone away 
Side by side, 
Leaving door and windows wide. 
Careless tenants they 1 

All within is dark as night ; 
In the windows is no light ; 
And no murmur at the door, 
So frequent on its hinge before. 

Close the door, the shutters close. 
Or through the windows we shall see 
The nakedness and vacancy 

Of the dark, deserted house. 

Come aw^ay : no more of mirth 
Is here or merry-making sound. 

The house was builded of the earth, 
And shall fall again to ground. 

Come away: for Life and Thought 

Here no longer dwell ; 

But in a city glorious — 
A great and distant city — have bought 

A mansion incorruptible. 
Would they could have stayed with us ! 

Tennyson. 

Sueplrla* 

Take them, O Death ! and bear away 
Whatever thou canst call thine own I 

Thine image, stamped upon this clay, 
Doth give thee that, but that alone ! 

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• 



poems 

Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie 
Folded upon thy narrow shelves, 

As garments by the soul laid by, 
And precious only to ourselves I 

Take them, O great Eternity ! 

Our little life is but a gust 
That bends the branches of thy tree, 

And trails its blossoms in the dust 1 

Longfellow. 

Zbc Cbarmer. 

" We need some charmer, for our hearts are sore 
With longing for the things that may not be ; 

Faint for the friends that shall return no more ; 
Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony. 

" What is this life ? and what to us is death ? 

Whence came we ? whither go ? and where are those 
Who, in a moment stricken from our side. 

Passed to that land of shadows and repose ? 

" And are they dust ? and dust must we become ? 

Or are they living in some unknown clime ? 
Shall we regain them in that far-off home. 

And live anew beyond the waves of time ? " 

So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round, 

When Socrates lay calmly down to die ; 
So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour 

When earth's fair morning-star should rise on high. 

They found him not, those youths of soul divine. 

Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore — 

Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light, 

Death came and found them — doubting as before. 

IIS 



^be Comtorter 

But years passed on ; and lo I the Charmer came — 
Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew ; 

And the world knew him not — he walked alone, 
Encircled only by his trusting few. 

" Let not your heart be troubled," then he said ; 

*' My Father's house hath mansions large and fair; 
I will go before you to prepare your place; 

I will return to take you with me there." 

And since that hour the awful foe is charmed. 

And life and death are glorified and fair. 
Whither he went we know — the way we know — 

And with firm step press on to meet him there. 

H. B. Stowe. 



XLbc Eternal ©ooDne06» 

Within the maddening maze of things, 
And tossed by storm and flood. 

To one fixed stake my spirit clings : 
I know that God is good. 

I long for household voices gone, 
For vanished smiles I long ; 

But God hath led my dear ones on, 
And he can do no wrong. 



I know not what the future hath 

Of marvel or surprise. 
Assured alone that life and death 

His mercy underlies. 

ii6 



^ 



poems 

And if my heart and flesh are weak 

To bear an untried pain, 
The bruised reed he will not break, 

But strengthen and sustain. 

And so beside the silent sea 

I wait the muffled oar ; 
No haiTn from him can come to me, 

On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where his islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air ; 

I only know I cannot drift 

Beyond his love and care. 

John G. Whittier, 



God gives us love. Something to love 
He lends us ; but, when love is grown 

To ripeness, that on which it throve 
Falls off, and love is left alone. 

And though mine owm eyes fill with dew, 
Drawn from the spirit through the brain, 

I wHU not even preach to you, 

" Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain." 

I will not say " God's ordinance 
Of death is blown in every wind ; '* 

For that is not a common chance 
That takes away a noble mind. 

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace ; 
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, 

117 



Ube Comfottet 

While the stars burn, the moons increase, 
And the great ages onward roll. 

Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet, 
Nothing comes to thee new or strange; 

Sleep full of rest from head to feet ; 
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



Mope'6 Bom. 

I HEAR it singing, singing sweetly, 

Softly in an undertone. 
Singing as if God had taught it, 

" It is better farther on 1 " 

Night and day it brings the message. 

Sings it while I sit alone ; 
Sings so that the heart may hear it, 

" It is better farther on 1 " 

Sits upon the grave and sings it. 

Sings it when the heart would groan, 

Sings it when the shadows darken, 
" It is better farther on." 

Farther on ? Oh 1 how much farther ? 

Count the mile-stones one by one. 

No 1 no counting — only trusting 

" It is better farther on I " 

Anonymous. 



ii8 



IPoems 

God of the living, in whose eyes 
Unveiled thy whole creation lies ! 
All souls are thine ; we must not say 
That those are dead who pass away ; 
From this our world of flesh set free, 
We know them living unto thee. 

Released from earthly toil and strife, 

With thee is hidden still their life ; 

Thine are their thoughts, their words, their powers, 

All thine, and yet most truly ours ; 

For well we know, where'er they be, 

Our dead are living unto thee. 

Not spilt like water on the ground, 
Not wrapt in dreamless sleep profound, 
Not wandering in unknown despair 
Beyond thy voice, thine arm, thy care ; 
Not left to lie like fallen tree ; 
Not dead, but living unto thee. 

O Breather into man of breath ! 
O Holder of the keys of death 1 
O Giver of the life w^ithin I 
Save us from death, the death of sin, 
That body, soul, and spirit be 
For ever living unto thee. 



John Ellerton. 



^ ^ 



Life 1 I know not what thou art, 
But know that thou and I must part ; 
And when, or how, or where we met, 
I ow^n to me 's a secret yet. 

119 



XTbe Comtorter 

Life 1 we've been long together, 
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, — 
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
Then steal away, give little warning. 
Choose thine own time; 
Say not Good-Night, — but in some brighter clime 
Bid me Good-Morning. 

Anna L. Barbauld. 



Zbc angel of ipattence^ 

To weary hearts, to mourning homes, 

God's meekest Angel gently comes ; 

No power has he to banish pain, 

Or give us back our lost again ; | 

And yet in tenderest love our dear | 

And heavenly Father sends him here. •. 

There's quiet in that Angel's glance ; 

There's rest in his still countenance 1 

He mocks no grief with idle cheer. 

Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear ; 

But ills and woes he may not cure 

He kindly trains us to endure. 

Angel of Patience 1 sent to calm 1 

Our feverish brows with cooling balm ; ^ 

To lay the storms of hope and fear, •$ 

And reconcile life's smile and tear ; • 
The throbs of wounded pride to still, 
And make our own our Father's will I 

O thou who mournest on thy way, 
With longings for the close of day 1 

I20 



I 



\ 



I 



He walks with thee, that Angel kind, 
And gently whispers, " Be resigned : 
Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell 
The dear Lord ordereth all things well 1 '* 

John G. Whittier 



Q\xt of tbe 2)eptb0, 

Thou that art strong to comfort, look on me 1 

I sit in darkness, and behold no light 1 
Over my heart the waves of agony 

Have gone and left me faint 1 Forbear to smite 
A bruised and broken reed 1 Sustain, sustain, 

Divinest Comforter, to thee I fly; 
Let me not fly in vain ! 

Support me with thy love, or else I die 1 
Whatever I had was thine I 

A God of mercy thou hast ever been ; 
Assist me to resign. 

And if I murmur, count it not for sin ! 
How rich I was, I dare not — dare not think ; 
How poor I am, thou knowest, who can see 
Into my soul's unfathomed misery ; 

Forgive me if I shrink 1 
Forgive me if I shed these human tears, 
That it so hard appears 
To yield my will to thine, forgive, forgive I 

Father, it is a bitter cup to drink! 

My soul is strengthened! it shall bear 

My lot, whatever it may be ; 
And from the depths of my despair 

I will look up and trust in thee 1 



Mary Howitt* 



121 



XTbe Comforter 

IPattlng anD Wiclcomc. 

God giveth quietness at last 1 
The common way once more is passed 
From pleading tears and lingerings fond, 
To fuller life and love beyond. 

Fold the rapt soul in your embrace, 
Dear ones familiar with the place I 
While to the gentle greetings there 
We answer here with murmured prayer. 

W^hat to shut eyes hath God revealed ? 
What hear the ears that death hath sealed ? 
What undreamed beauty, passing show, 
Requites the loss of all we know? 

O silent land, to which we move, 
Enough, if there alone be love I 
And mortal need can ne'er outgrow 
What it is waiting to bestow I 

O pure soul 1 from that far-off shore 
Float some sweet song the waters o*er; 
Our faith confirm, our fears dispel. 
With the dear voice we loved so well I 

J. G. Whittier. 

afrom ''ITn /iRemodam/' 

LIIJ. 

Oh yet we trust that somehow good 

Will be the final goal of ill, 

To pangs of nature, sins of will, 
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; 

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1 



poems 

That nothing walks with aimless feet ; 

That not one life shall be destroyed, 

Or cast as rubbish to the void, 
When God hath made the pile complete » 

« 

That not a worm is cloven in vain ; 

That not a moth with vain desire 

Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, 
Or but subserves another's gain. 

Behold, we know not anything; 

I can but trust that good shall fall 

At last — far off — at last, to all, 
And every winter change to spring. 

So runs my dream : but what am I ? 

An infant crying in the night ; 

An infant crying for the light ; 
And with no language but a cry. 

LIV. 

I falter where I firmly trod, 

And, falling with my weight of cares 
Upon the world's great altar-stairs 

That slope through darkness up to God, 

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, 
And gather dust and chaff, and call 
To what I feel is Lord of all. 

And faintly trust the larger hope. 

Alfred Tennysonc 



123 



Ube Comtotter 

Buld Xang S^xxc, 

It singeth low in every heart, 

We hear it, each and all, — 
A song of those who answer not, 

However we may call ; 
They throng the silence of the breast, 

We see them as of yore, — 
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet? 

Who walk with us no more ! 

'Tis hard to take the burden up. 

When these have laid it down ; 
They brightened all the joy of life, 

They softened every frown ; 
But oh, 'tis good to think of them, 

When we are troubled sore I 
Thanks be to God that such have been, 

Though they are here no more 1 

More homelike seems the vast unknown, 

Since they have entered there ; 
To follow them were not so hard, 

Wherever they may fare ; 
They cannot be where God is not, 

On any sea or shore ; 

Whate'er betides, thy love abides. 

Our God, forevermore ! 

J. W. Chadwick. 

3l6urfeD m Sea» 

Not in the church -yard shall he .sleep, 
Amid the silent gloom, — 
His home was on the mighty deep. 
And there shall be his tomb. 

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poems 

He loved his own bright, deep blue sea, 
O'er it he loved to roam ; 
And now his winding sheet shall be 
That same bright ocean's foam. 

No village bell shall toll for him 
Its mournful, solemn dirge ; 
The winds shall chant a requiem 
To him beneath the surge. 

For him, break not the grassy turf, 
Nor turn the dewy sod ; 
His dust shall rest beneath the surf, 
His spirit with its God. 



Anonymous, 



* * 



There is no vacant chair. The loving meet — 
A group unbroken — smitten, who knows how t 
One sitteth silent only, in his usual seat ; 
We gave him once that freedom. Why not now ^ 

Perhaps he is too weary, and needs rest ; 

He needed it too often, nor could we 

Bestow. God gave it, knowing how to do so best • 

Which of us would disturb him ? Let him be. 



There is no vacant chair. If he will take 

The mood to listen mutely, be it done. 

By his least mood we crossed, for which the heart must ache, 

Plead not nor question. Let him have this one, 

125 



Zbc Comfottet 

Death is a mood of life. It is no whim 
By which life's Giver mocks a broken heart. 
Death is life's reticence. Still audible to Him, 
The hushed voice, happy, speaketh on, apart. 

There is no vacant chair. To love is still 
To have. Nearer to memory than the eye. 
And dearer yet to anguish than to comfort, will 
We hold him by our love, that shall not die. 

For while it doth not, thus he cannot. Try I 
Who can put out the motion or the smile ? 
The old ways of being noble all with him laid by ? 
Because we love, he is. Then trust awhile. 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward. 

Mow OTiii irt ase* 

How will it be when, by and by, 
I dwell no more beneath the sky ? 
I cannot hide the plain, hard truth 
That victor days have buried youth. 
We spin our cycles round the sun, 
Unpausing till the end be won ; ^ 
But what end none of us can see. 
I wonder much how it will be. 

I hope it will not all be strange, 

A life beyond the reach and range 

Of that experience and skill 

That here have come through hand and will. 

I rather choose to just go on 

The way my days have always gone. 

The same great laws around me still, 

Earth's possible to quite fulfil. 

126 



W poems 

I pray that the new life may be 
' As good as earth has been to me ; 

That I may be no shade or ghost ; 
That no essential may be lost ; 
That what I learn through strife and pain 
May always count for good and gain ; 
That joy and sweet serenity 
Shall partly still depend on me. 

For seraph wings and golden street 
And great white throne I am not meet ; 
I w^ould prefer a flower or two 
Each morning, sparkling in the dew ; 
A few old scenes, a few old friends ; 
Old workings out from means to ends ; 
Or what will seem the same to me, 
With all things changed in like degree. 

To lose all these at death's release, 

Or to forget them, is to cease. 

But if God plans some sweet surprise 

To dawn upon my soul's new eyes, 

And when new light shall on me stream, 

I find all better than I dream, 

I'll bow my head, my feet unshod. 

And say ** Tis like Him— He is God." 

DwiGHT M. Hodge. 

©ver tbe IRiver* 

Over the river they beckon to me, 

Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side, 

The gleam of their snowy robes I see, 

But their voices are lost in the dashing tide. 



127 



Ube Comtortet 

For none return from those quiet shores, 

Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; 
We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

And catch a gleam of the snowy sail; 
And lo 1 they have passed from our yearning hearts, 

They cross the stream and are gone for aye. 
We may not sunder the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of day; 
We only know that their barks no more 

May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea ; 
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, 

They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 

And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 

Is flushing river and hill and shore, 
I shall one day stand by the water cold. 

And list for the sound of the boatman's oar; 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail, 

I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand, 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale. 

To the better shore of the spirit land. 
I shall know the loved who have gone before, 

And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
When over the river, the peaceful river, 

The angel of death shall carry me. 

Nancy A. W. Priest. 



^ ^ 



Mete anD ^bete* 

Here is the sorrow, the sighing, 
Here are the cloud and the night ; 

Here is the sickness, the dying, — 
There are the life and the light ; 

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poems 

Here is the fading, the wasting, 

The foe that so watchfully waits ; 
There are the hills everlasting. 

The city with beautiful gates. 

Here are the locks growing hoary. 
The glass with the vanishing sands; 

There are the crown and the glory, 

The house that is made not with hands. 

Here is the longing, the vision. 
The hopes that so swiftly remove; 

There is the blessed fruition, 

The feast, and the fulness of love. 

Here are the heart-strings a-tremble, 

And here is the chastening rod ; 
There is the song and the cymbal. 

And there is our Father and God. 

Alice Gary. 



Zbc ©tbet StDe. 

Climbing the mountain's shaggy crest, 
I wondered much what sight would greet 
My eager gaze w^hene'er my feet 

Upon the topmost height should rest. 

The other side was all unknown; 

But, as I slowly toiled along, 

Sweeter to me than any song 
My dream of visions to be shown. 

At length the topmost height was gained ; 

The other side was full in view ; 

My dreams — not one of them was true, 
But better far had I attained. 

129 



XTbe Comforter 

For far and wide on either hand 

There stretched a valley broad and fair, 
With greenness flashing everywhere,-— 

A pleasant, smiling, home-like land. 

Who knows, I thought, but so 'twill prove 
Upon that mountain-top of death. 
Where we shall draw diviner breath, 

And see the long-lost friends we love. 

It may not be as we have dreamed. 

Not half so awful, strange, and grand ; 

A quiet, peaceful, home-like land, 

Better than e'er in vision gleamed. 

J. W. Chadwick. 



G^be Jfuture* 

What may we take into the vast Forever ? 

That marble door 
Admits no fruit of all our long endeavor, 

No fame-wreathed crown we wore. 

No garnered lore. 

What can we bear beyond the unknown portal ? 

No gold, no gains. 
Of all our toiling ; in the life immortal 

No hoarded wealth remains. 

Nor gilds, nor stains. 

Naked from out that far abyss behind us 

We entered here : 
No word came with our coming, to remind us 

What wondrous world was near, 

No hope, no fear. 

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poems 

Into the silent, starless Night before us, 

Naked we gUde : 
No hand has mapped the constellations o'er us, 

No comrade at our side, 

No chart, no guide. 

Yet fearless toward that midnight, black and hollow, 

Our footsteps fare : 
The beckoning of a Father's hand we follow — 

His love alone is there. 

No curse, no care. 

Edward Rowland Sill. 



Zbc ©tber 'WHorl^. 

It lies around us like a cloud, — 

A world we do not see ; 
Yet the sweet closing of an eye 

May bring us there to be. 

Its gentle breezes fan our cheek; 

Amid our worldly cares 
Its gentler voices whisper love, 

And mingle with our prayers. 

Sweet hearts around us throb and beat. 
Sweet helping hands are stirred. 

And palpitates the veil between 
With breathings almost heard. 

The silence, — awful, sweet, and calm, 
They have no power to break ; 

For mortal words are not for them 
To utter or partake. 



Ube Comforter 

So thin, so soft, so sweet they gUde, 
So near to press they seem, — 

They seem to lull us to our rest, 
And melt into our dream. 

And in the hush of rest they bring, 

'Tis easy now to see 
How lovely and how sweet a pass 

The hour of death may be. 

To close the eye, and close the ear, 
Wrapped in a trance of bliss, 

And gently dream in loving arms. 
To swoon to that, — from this. 

Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep. 
Scarce asking where we are, 

To feel all evil sink away. 
All sorrow and all care. 

Sweet souls around us 1 watch us still, 

Press nearer to our side. 
Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 

With gentle helpings glide. 

Let death between us be as naught, 
A dried and vanished stream ; 

Your joy be the reality. 

Our suffering life, the dream. 



H. B. Stowe. 



^ ^ 



It seemeth such a little way to me 

Across to that strange country — the Beyond ; 
And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be 

The home of those of whom I am so fond, 

132 



poems 

They make it seem familiar and most dear, 

As journeying friends bring distant regions near. 

So close it lies, that when my sight is clear 
I think I almost see the gleaming strand. 

I know I feel those who have gone from here 
Come near enough sometimes to touch my hand. 

I often think, but for our veiled eyes, 

We should find Heaven right round about us lies. 

I cannot make it seem a day to dread, 

When from this dear earth I shall journey out 

To that still dearer country of the dead. 

And join the lost ones, so long dreamed about. 

I love this world, yet shall I love to go 

And meet the friends who wait for me, I know. 

I never stand above a bier and see 

The seal of death set on some well-beloved face 
But that I think, " One more to welcome me, 

When I shall cross the intervening space 
Between this land and that one ' over there ; * 
One more to make the strange Beyond seem fair.'* 

And so for me there is no sting to death, 

And so the grave has lost its victory. 
It is but crossing — with abated breath. 

And white, set face — a little strip of sea. 
To find the loved ones waiting on the shore, 
More beautiful, more precious than before. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



^33 



Zbc Comforter 

O BLESSED life of service and of love, 
Full of such duties as God's angels know 1 
His servants serve Him day and night above, 
Thou servedst day and night, we thought, below. 

O faithful heart, that recked not care or pain 
When Duty called thee, or when Love did lead, 
Thou gavest freely, asking not again 
The word of comfort or the costly deed. 

O gentle hands, so busy evermore 
With healing touch or helpful tenderness I 
'Twas yours to lift the burdens others bore, — 
Your sole reward the joy of usefulness. 

O tireless feet, still walking till the last 
Your patient round, as noiseless as the sun 1 
Your toilsome journey now is overpast. 
Your years of pilgrimage at length are done. 

We know not how to say the word *' Good bye." 
We know not how to leave thee at the gate 
That opens for thee towards that city high 
Where other hands with loving welcome wait. 

We long shall miss thee as we go our ways. 
The home will miss thee from its broken band. 
Full many a tear will tell thy sober praise. 
And all good works will miss thy helping hand. 

And yet. Good bye ! Good bye 1 thou faithful soul 1 
From toil and trouble thou hast earned release. 
Thy weary feet are resting at the goal. 
The pain of living -ended in God's peace. 



poems 

Cro60tng tbe :©ar^ 

Sunset and evening star, 

And one clear call for me ! 

And may there be no moaning of the bar, 

When I put out to sea ; 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam. 

When that vv'hich drew from out the boundless deep, 

Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell. 

And after that the dark ! 

And may there be no sadness of farewell, 

When I embark ; 

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 

I hope to see my Pilot face to face, 

When I have cross'd the bar. 

Alfred Lord Tennyson. 



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